Alice
by vok
Summary: What if ... Alice joined the story a little later? AU
1. Chapter 1

Couldn't resist this plot bunny … I think the unwritten rule of fanfic is that if you can't find the story you want to read, you gotta write it yourself. (On that note, if there already is a story like this - point me at it! I want to read it!)

What if – Alice showed up a bit later in the story? This is Pre-Bella. At least for now.

Not mine. Don't own them.

* * *

**Forks, WA**

Carlisle was in a good mood. It is said that moving house is the second most stressful experience for humans, and he thought it applied to vampires as well. In fact, considering that vampires didn't really attend a lot of funerals, it could possibly qualify as the most stressful. Change was stressful – human or not.

Esme always tried to look at moving as an new and challenging interior design project, but he could tell that constantly leaving her creations behind was hard on her, particularly the gardens. The sad fact was that a properly landscaped garden often took five or more years to mature. Rosalie, too, seemed to find moving stressful. New places meant new unpredictability, more elements out of her control, and like every other type of pressure, she reacted badly to it. Snappy and irritable and always on edge. Thankfully, his two sons were less affected. Edward moved in his own little bubble – often setting up his rooms exactly the same in each place. Emmett was so gregariously happy that his surroundings seemed more like a prop to him than anything else. One place or another – it was like baseball or soccer. As long as he was playing, he was happy. Emmett's moving stress was Rosalie.

As for himself, he also did not like uprooting. After almost three hundred years, moving every decade or less, he could see the appeal of the Volturi's approach – crafting a home to suit oneself perfectly. Anchoring oneself in a certain place. Building a life. A true home. To sit under the giant oaks that you planted as seedlings. But, he always told himself with a sigh, there were dangers with that as well – a certain stagnation of thought and development. As long as he chose to mingle with the human population, adaptability was paramount. In short, even if he didn't like it, he accepted that moving was probably a good exercise for all of them.

They'd been in Forks a month now and things were settling down. The kids had started high school with minimal fuss. The teachers didn't seem too excruciatingly boring or nosey, no one had started any fights (Rosalie) or ended them (Emmett). Esme had taken advantage of a string of cloudy days to investigate the shops, and had come home with some new plant hybrids that were supposed to do particularly well in the Forks' overcast environment. Even Edward (Edward!) had mentioned that the local coffee shop had some half decent live music, and had heard a rumour there was a famous musician somewhere under all this greenery and cloud who would play occasionally. As for him, the hospital had welcomed him with open arms. It was nice to find a place where people still associated nosiness with rudeness. No one had commented on his strange paleness even if they had noticed it. Even more unusual, there was a refreshing lack of ego to the hospital staff. If anything the aging doctors were glad of a young, brilliant newcomer with the energy they imagined they used to have. If Carlisle had to sit through a few more 'in the good old days' stories, it was a small price to pay, and certainly better than the petty backstabbing and snipping that frequently occurred in larger hospitals.

Yes, Carlisle thought, pulling up to his parking space, it was a good day.

His peaceful state of mind was broken by the large number of emergency vehicles flashing lights in the parking lot. Forks only had two ambulances, but there were four currently, which meant two had been summoned from nearby towns. A large traffic accident, he summarized, striding through the main doors a bit quicker than usual.

"Dr. Cullen, thank god you're here." The head nurse, Lotti, who wore her greying hair like a muffin on top of her head, greeted him. Lotti was experienced, but the little emergency room wasn't meant to hold the four gurney's and the dozen or so people milling around on top of the usual small town emergencies. The noise level itself was distracting. For a second he was pulled back to the ER stint he had done in Chicago during the nineties. Now that was stress. He forced himself to focus on the present.

"What's going on?"

"Car accident – a van transporting mental health patients from Spokane down to Seattle got sideswiped by a semi. Truck driver is over there – seems mostly okay, just shaken but someone needs to check him out. Dr. E and Dr. Franks are busy with two patients who were bleeding out when they got here, and no one's had a chance to evaluate anyone else." She ran out of breath and just looked at him.

"Well," Carlisle said, "then I guess that's where I'll start."

He rarely raised his voice, never barked orders at people – yet as soon as he stepped into a room he was a force of calm authority that people just instinctively responded to. Already the emergency room seemed quieter, more organized.

The first person he checked was clearly a guard. Sitting up, head held stiffly. Whip-lash most likely, Carlisle deduced after a few pointed questions. Could wait. Next up was an older woman, a patient at the mental health institute he surmised, based on her clothing and the ceaseless rocking. The patients' charts had been in the van and had been transferred with them in the ambulance. Parkinson's her chart said. Possible dementia. Examining her briefly he could find little more than a few scratches from broken glass.

The next two were similar, some significant bruising from seatbelts and a cracked rib that would have to be watched, but nothing too pressing. He moved onto the fourth.

'She's nothing more than a child,' was his first thought. Indeed, she was tiny. Appearing even smaller curled up as she was into a tight ball. He glanced at her chart. Mary Brandon. She was 13 - older than he had thought from his quick glance. He started his check. The obvious injury was to her right arm – twisted and bent it was definitely broken – potentially a spiral fracture. No response to his voice. There was blood dripping down her face, although she gave no indication that she was aware of it. He checked her pupils – her eyes, the pale ice-blue of a husky's, stared unblinkingly but the pupils dilated and contracted. He reached out with a hand to push the short dark hair out of the way, fingers searching for the injury. He found it, high on her forehead, just below her hairline. Would probably need stitches. Also a CAT scan to check for a concussion just to be safe.

"Mary? Can you hear me?"

No response. Frustrated, he turned back to her chart. Hard to diagnose anything when she was so drugged up. His eyebrows rose as he noted the long list of anti-psychotic drugs she was on. It looked like she was being treated for everything from schizophrenia to depression to ADD, and on top of that a dose of tranquilizers that he'd hesitate to give to a fully grown man. Her chart looked suspiciously like someone had simply thrown everything on the shelf at her. Carlisle hated that sort of doctoring. He flipped back a few more pages looking for her parental information – ward of the state was all that was listed. Had been since she was six years old and admitted with childhood schizophrenia. Well, he thought, convenient.

Without conscious thought, his free hand drifted back down to the girl's fingers, lightly brushing them, seeking to give whatever comfort he could. He was surprised to feel a response, a slight twitch. He glanced down to find her ice-blue eyes struggling to focus on him.

"Hey there," he said in his most reassuring voice, crouching down to her eyelevel. "It's alright, you're safe. There was accident, but you're safe now." He held her undamaged fingers lightly in one hand, the other hand reaching again to smooth her hair back. Her eyes blinked once and he was surprised by what he saw in them. Recognition.

Her lips moved, and it took Carlisle's vampire hearing to make out the words exhaled on the softest of breaths.

"It's you."

Carlisle had never heard such a mixture of hope and relief as in those two words.

He picked up her chart and signed his name as her physician.

* * *

"You seem distracted." Esme ran her fingers through Carlisle's hair as she leaned over his shoulder, glancing at the computer screen. Carlisle caught her fingers with his and spun around to better see her wife. God she was beautiful. Intellectually he knew their looks never changed and so he should be accustomed to them – but to him she was like a sunrise – glorious every time he looked at her.

She smiled as if he knew what she was thinking. "Actions speak louder than words," she murmured. In response he pulled her onto her lap, almost tipping the chair over and sending them both rolling across the room.

"These new-fangled chairs," Carlisle muttered in a decent impression of Dr. Franks, as he rolled them back towards the computer. Fingers stroking his wife's side until she wiggled in his lap. "I apologize my Esme, I didn't mean to ignore you."

Esme turned to face him, catching his chin in her fingers, giving his face a gentle squeeze. "Don't be silly – I'm not a plant that requires your attention," she smiled to take the sting out of her words, "I was just wondering if I could help. What is it?"

With a sigh, Carlisle turned back to the computer screen, debating telling Esme. He loved her incredibility ability to give, her generosity of herself. He hated to take advantage of it, and even more he hated when she got hurt.

"It's this girl at the hospital," he began. "I can't explain it, but it's like … well it's like she's somehow connected to me."

"Is she sick?"

Carlisle hesitated, then nodded. "Very. They think it's schizophrenia. It's definitely something. She's 13 – she's got no one. But when she looked at me, it was like she knew me. Like I was someone to her."

"Poor girl. Maybe you've treated her before, when she was really little. That's why she seems familiar."

Carlisle shook his head. "I thought of that. But her name – I've never had a patient that matched that name, not in the last 13 years. It's possible I saw her so briefly I never knew her name – but it seems like … well that I should know her well."

"Maybe you treated a relative then? What's her name?"

"Alice. No wait. Mary Alice Brandon." Carlisle frowned at his unusual mistake.

"Alice." Esme said. "Such a pretty name. A lost Alice, who fell down a hole and then couldn't get back home."

Carlisle squeezed her hand, but this time it was Esme who was staring distractedly out into the distance, and Carlisle knew that in her small, brave way, she had already taken this little girl into her heart.

"We have to help her, Carlisle. We have to try."

* * *

The Spokane patients were being prepared to continue on to Seattle. The less seriously injured were going by van. One of the patients had bled out on the operating table and died, the other had survived the operation and was being transferred to Seattle General's ICU. The Fork's hospital just wasn't equipped to deal with such significant injuries.

"I'm not releasing her." Carlisle said simply to Dr. Franks.

Dr Franks, the senior doctor on staff was a bear of a man, who in his younger days had been a feared competitor on the Lumberjack circuit. He sighed, running his hand through what was left of his greying hair.

"We're not a psychiatric hospital. We don't have the expertise. What you are suggesting, you know as well as I do that taking a psych patient off their meds is no small matter. It often takes months, if not years to find a balance in medications. We could be undoing a lot of hard work."

Carlisle snorted – an odd sound from the usually preternaturally refined man and Dr. Franks' eyebrows slid together. "Assuming," Carlisle continued, "that they've found a balance – which since she is currently on over 30 different types of medication I highly doubt – she's had a concussion. Its near impossible to determine what if any damage has occurred when she's so drugged up – furthermore, she has a bad break in her right arm, and its irresponsible to administer painkillers to someone who is already on such a drug cocktail."

"Have you spoken to her regular doctors?"

"Yes," Carlisle said shortly. "They couldn't remember the reasoning for half of the drugs she's on– and the other half were prescribed to address the side effects of the first half. Do you know how rare childhood schizophrenia is? How it's almost impossible to diagnose in a child as young as six because the brain just isn't developed enough? And furthermore," Carlisle flipped a few pages back in her chart for show – he had it memorized after all – "her original symptoms aren't anywhere near conclusive, even for an adult."

Dr. Franks eyed him curiously.

"How do you know so much about a rare disorder?"

Carlisle suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be a young surgeon. He thought fast, but not fast enough. "Dr. Phil?" He offered, grimacing as the words left his mouth.

"The good doctor hmmm?" Dr. Franks chuckled. "Well … lets just keep that one between you and me and stick with DSM."

Dr Franks took her chart, weighing it in his giant hands. It was ridiculously thick for a thirteen year old girl. "Situation Normal All Fucked Up," he muttered quietly. "I don't envy those guys their jobs. The human brain – well – lets just say I'm happy being an old fashioned sawbones man."

He handed the chart back to Carlisle.

"All right Doogie," Carlisle winced at the nickname that had become increasingly popular over the last two decades, "she's yours. While I don't anticipate anyone's going to be screaming over getting this poor child back, let me know if anyone starts pressuring you. You've got two weeks. Let's hope you can help her."

* * *

AN: So is this anyone else's cup of tea?


	2. Chapter 2

AN: An intimate tea party! My favourite kind. Welcome Jalice, Nymphy, Katie, Marrabelle, and Joee! I'm drinking black tea with milk, no sugar.

* * *

Alice was not getting better.

Carlisle sighed over the file on his desk. Just so many pieces of paper – but what it represented was a little girl's life. He pinched his nose.

Since taking her off the medicine, the girl, Alice, had gone from barely conscious to a state of hyper- arousal. Not that she was any more responsive. She was a tense ball on her hospital bed, every muscle clenched like she was expecting a beating, or bracing against an unknown foe. Thin arms tightly wrapped around her spindly knees, the left one hanging on tightly to the large cast on the right, even her toes curled against the sheets, knuckles white from their grip, eyes staring blindly forward. The only movement he'd ever seen was a slight rocking back and forth. Occasionally her lips moved but no sound would come out. Carlisle had spent an hour with her every day, talking to her – but he never got any reaction. Her eyes never even seemed to blink.

According to the night staff, she didn't sleep.

As far as he knew, the two words she whispered to him a week ago was the only thing she had said.

He sighed again. Checked his watch. Vampires didn't need to sleep, but sometimes traces of his humanity would rear its head and he'd feel tired. Worn out. A mental exhaustion transferred into his body. Tonight was one such a night. He let his mind wander to his place of comfort – his home. His family. Esme the golden light of his life, his children, Emmett – tough, large, lion-hearted Emmett, strong yet brittle Rosalie, and then Edward –sensitive, stubborn Edward. He needed them, even as he knew they needed him. That was what family was – people relying, sharing and supporting each other. He was lost before them, he would be lost without them.

Now this little girl who needed someone and had no one. She had said 'It's you' – but was it? He was failing her.

He shook his head at his morose thoughts. It had only been a week. He had been a doctor too long to expect miracles. Mental disorders weren't cured so much as they were managed with years of therapy and medication. Maybe it was time to look again at the medications she had been on. His gaze flicked again to the file, then away as his fingers flipped it shut. Not tonight. He would stop by Alice's room to say Good Night as had become his evening ritual, and then go home to his family. He was looking forward to seeing them.

The hospital was quiet at night. His footsteps barely audible on the linoleum floors. He hesitated at Alice's door, peeking in through the window. It was as he expected, her curled on the bed, staring unblinkingly at the wall as if the world's secretes were written there for her alone to see.

He knock once for politeness then quietly opened the door, easing his way into her room.

"Hello Alice."

No movement, no response. He pulled up a chair and sat next to her bed. After a moment of hesitation he reached out and gently laid his hand on top of hers. No reaction.

"Mary?" She might have been hanging onto her knees with all her strength but it took no effort at all for his fingers to slide between her tiny hands, prying them apart so he could take one in his.

He had never tried to touch her. One didn't need to be a psychologist to see that everything about her body language screamed stay away, but he didn't know what else to try.

He knew his hands should feel cold to her – but she still wasn't pulling away. Her eyes, just as glazed over, staring into the dark wall. He decided to take her lack of reaction as a good sign. He had time. His family would wait. They sat until he became aware of a slight twitching in her fingers. Hardly noticeable.

"Mary Alice?"

No response but the movement continued. Smoothed out. Until it was less of a twitch and more of a continuous movement. Carlisle laid her left hand on top of his, and just watched her fingers traced on top of his palm. With his free hand he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. He replaced his hand with the paper, and gently wrapped her fingers around the pen.

And waited.

Slowly the squiggles turned into recognizable shapes. He glanced at her face. Her eyes were now focused onto the pad of paper, and a level of hyperkinetic almost desperate energy. Her fingers stilled and he flipped it to a clean sheet. It started again.

* * *

_**One Week Later**_

Dr. Franks politely knocked before entering Carlisle's office and making himself at home.

"We need to talk.

Carlisle sighed. " I just need more time."

"She's been here for almost two weeks."

"Is anyone asking about her?"

"No – but that's not the point. The point is – are we helping her? Are we giving her the best care?"

"I think we are." Carlisle pulled out Mary Alice's folder, now even thicker with drawings. "She's trying to communicate." He pushed them across the desk.

Dr. Franks picked them up, glancing at a few of them. "I don't know Carlisle – I'm not sure I'm seeing anything – I'm not sure we're trained here to see anything. This hospital is responsible for her, and being responsible includes knowing when you can't provide the level of care needed."

"I really feel – "

Dr. Franks held up his hand. "Let me finish. I know you've taken an interest in her case, but let me tell you as someone who's been around for a long time, I've seen it all, and I know about your history, taking kids in – but – you can't save everyone. It's a hard lesson to learn – but its better to learn this earlier."

Carlisle ran his fingers through his hair. "I appreciate that but …"

There was a sharp knock at the door as Lotti appeared in his doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt but – I thought you'd want to know – it's Mary Alice."

Carlisle froze statute-still. "What's happened?"

"I'm sorry –one of my nurses – well you better come and see for yourself."

Forks hospital was small, and Carlisle had never been so glad of that fact. It was hard enough remaining to human pace, but he didn't have a choice with Dr. Franks and Lotti beside him, Lotti trying to explain in aborted sentences what had happened. "She just wanted her to sleep. Janice is new here. We don't have many psych patients. Its been weeks and she hasn't slept. So she was trying to help. She took away the paper and then pen. And then when she checked on her –"

Lotti didn't need to continue. Carlisle could see for himself.

"Oh, Alice."

Carlisle took it all in. The bed frame that she had used to scrap her wrist raw, the blood streaming down her thin arm, the spaced out look in her eyes, the walls – the floor – covered in brown-red, her finger still tracing out images only her mind could see.

"Alice," Carlisle tried, "Mary Alice please stop."

Alice didn't acknowledge him at all.

"I'm sorry." Lotti repeated. "We don't really know how to –"

Dr Franks laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "It's okay Lotti – its not your fault. She shouldn't have been here this long."

He turned to Carlisle.

"It's going to take a couple of days to arrange her transportation, but after that ... I'm sorry Carlisle, but this experiment ends now."

* * *

"You're home late," Esme greeted him at the door. The kiss she gave him lingered.

Carslile buried his face into her neck, inhaling. He had given Alice back her pad of paper and a pencil, sat her down on the bed and bandaged her left arm, the right one had been protected from any more damage by its cast. He had tried to talk to her – but nothing – her eyes just as blank as always.

"Esme…" he breathed.

"Hard day?"

Carlisle wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her into the living room. He could hear the faint strands of Edward practicing, the low murmur of Rosalie and Emmett bantering away. Home.

"I did have a rough day," he acknowledged, settling them both onto the couch. "Remember Mary Alice?"

"Hmm… Little Alice lost."

"I'm worried that I'm not helping her, that I may even have hurt her more."

"I'm sure that's not true." Esme comforted.

Carlisle sighed. "I feel like I need more time – the one thing I don't have."

Esme ran a hand down his arm.

"Can we help?"

"I don't think so. .. unless. Maybe you can see something where I can't."

Esme raised her voice slightly "Edward, Emmett, Rosalie" she called.

At Carlisle's raised eyebrow she explained, "four heads are better than one."

Edward appeared from his studio, eyes slightly lost in thought, his hair a tussled mess. Rosalie stepped down the stairs, impeccably groomed – an ice sculpture come to life - Emmett on her arm, cheekily smiling. All of them were looking at Carlisle with curiosity and trust. His family. From his briefcase he pulled out Alice's drawings, laying them out on the coffee table.

"What's up?" Emmett bounced down onto the sofa, pulling Rosalie after him. Edward, with a certain cat-like grace folded his lankier frame into a chair.

"A patient of mine did these drawings, and I'd like your help – can you see anything in them?

Four heads obliging bent over the piles. In the week since Carlisle had first handed Alice the pad of paper and the pen, she had drawn over 200 of them. Her intense, almost preternatural focus had shifted from the wall to the paper and she hadn't looked up since.

Edward picked a few up to study. Emmett thumbing through a couple more. Esme glanced at Carlisle.

"What's this about?" She murmured quietly, "really?"

"Looks like a lot of scribbles to me." Rosalie flipped through them. Carlisle's shoulder's slumped.

"Yes," he agreed. "Sometimes I thought they looked like a bit more, but perhaps it was just optimistic thinking."

"No wait." Edward's head was tilted. "Does this look – well does it look familiar to anyone else?"

"Let me see."

Edward handed it to Emmett.

"You know, it kind of does."

Rosalie looked over his shoulders. "Well – if that's a person, and that's a person – then- well - it's us, isn't it? In Alaska – when the moose came into the house. That was like – what – 7 years ago?"

"Let me see." Rosalie passed it onto Esme.

"You know Carlisle. I think they are right."

"And this one – it looks like the September 11 attacks? That shape could be the two towers – and those scribbles there smoke."

Carlisle looked over Rosalie's shoulder. "It could be," he agreed.

"And this one, it's us, six years ago, when Rosalie tried to burn the house down."

"It was an accident." Rosalie grumbled back.

"The six thousand candles in the bedroom were an accident?"

"No – that was a ROMANTIC GESTURE EDWARD. Kicking them over was the ACCIDENT."

"Carlisle," Esme was flipping through the drawings, ignoring the squabbling – "these are all of us – or they are of world events. Did you tell Alice about us? Why would she be drawing us?"

Carlisle shook his head. "I haven't told her anything about us. The September 11th attacks was the first one she drew, then the rest. I numbered them."

Edward's fingers were flying now, a white blur over the drawings, like running his fingers up and down a keyboard, as he arranged the pieces of paper "These, they're in order. She's drawing them in chorological order. The latest one is still a year back. It's like … she's playing back history- but the history … well its us." Edward looked up, "But that's impossible. How does she know about us?"

Carlisle met his son's eyes. "I don't know," he said softly.

"And," Edward continued, "what's she going to draw when she catches up to present time?"

Carlisle felt Esme wrap her hand around his, giving him her silent support.

"I don't know." Carlisle repeated, "but I'm not letting her go until we find out."

* * *

a/n I'm embarrassed to admit that I wrote this chapter while watching 40 year virgin and American Wedding (surprisingly funny!) so I hope it flows somewhat!

Just in case anyone's confused. Alice's visions have basically been uncorked, and so she's cycling through 7 years worth of visions in about a week to catch up.


	3. Chapter 3

and onwards!

* * *

The next morning in the hospital, Carlisle went directly to Alice's room. For once he wasn't disappointed to find her in the exact same position on the bed, left hand sliding the pen back and forth and around. He watched her for about 20 minutes until she flipped the sheet and began again. Her fingers were shaking, probably from fatigue, he surmised. She had to be exhausted. She looked exhausted, her small stature whittled down to almost nothing – a tiny skeleton dressed in white, topped with a shocking disarray of dark hair and of course those blind blue husky ice eyes. She looked so unsubstantial, her weight barely denting the mattress of the bed – a pond-skimmer bug about to float away, tethered only by the IV that they finally had to put in. He slid into the room, looking over her shoulder as images that could be him and Esme moving into the Forks the house a few months ago appeared. Edward was right, she was catching up on time.

He wondered if it was just going to turn into Achilles and the Tortoise – where as she got closer to the present time she would just draw moments from tinier and tinier intervals - approaching but never reaching the present. He would be back to check on her later. Meanwhile he left strict instructions with the floor nurse that he be contacted if anything changed – if she stopped drawing anything—and went about his day.

His second order of business for the day was to talk to Dr. Franks. Last night he had gone carefully through Alice's drawings, isolating the ones to do with his family that could possibly raise too many questions – not the least of being evidence of an improper relationship between himself and a vulnerable 13 year old girl ('how else could she have known' was the default question) – then collected the rest to leave in her file.

Dr. Franks was busy in the morning but Carlisle, drawings in hand, caught up to him at lunch.

"Mary Alice?" Dr. Franks expression hardened. "Look Carlisle- she's not sleeping, she's not eating, she's been in a fugue state for over a week – there's no way I can look at that and see improvement. Not only are we not helping her - it's a malpractice suit waiting to happen. "

"Please, Sir – just hear me out."

Carlisle laid out the non-familial drawings, showing the trend – "she's been cycling through memories from when she was first treated until present day – like she's trying to process or account for her time. All I'm asking is that we wait until she hits present day – I think it will be tonight, tomorrow at the latest. Then see what happens."

Dr. Franks took a closer look at the drawings, Carlisle had helpfully labelled them with sticky notes to indicate what he and his family had deduced they were.

"World events – huh?"

Carlisle shrugged. "Even mental patients sometimes watch television. That's my best guess where they are coming from."

"Tonight or tomorrow?"

"I'm hoping."

"Ok – well, we'll hold off until then."

Carlisle felt a relief shift off his shoulders. It was true what he had told Esme – there was no way that he was going to let Alice go until he had given her every opportunity – until he understood what the strange link was between her and his family – but it was certainly easier to do it this way than resorting to more extreme tactics. Having patients mysteriously disappear while under your care was not exactly 'blending in'.

"Thank you – you won't regret this."

Dr Franks snorted into his beard. "We'll see."

* * *

He checked in on her numerous times during the day – the nurses confirming what he saw 'still drawing, no change.'

By five, when he had seen his last patient, he organized the top of desk, re-filing folders, cleaning up his notes, and then called home. Then, as was his daily practice, he stopped by Alice's room. She was still drawing, but her gestures were even shakier than before. It was a miracle that she was still functioning.

She didn't look up as he entered the room, moving to behind her shoulder. Her right arm was hanging out of its sling, but she seemed oblivious to any discomfort. He glanced at the drawing – it was him – her drawings were becoming more exact, more easily identifiable, whether because of her taking more time on them or just a better idea of how to interpret whatever these messages were - he had no idea. But it was recognizably him, leaning over – it looked familiar – he placed it as the day he met Alice.

Her hand stilled after the foundations of the drawing had been laid in. Froze - for a moment it was as if time itself had stopped - then in an mechanical gesture her hand opened and she dropped the pen. Then her body started to shake, imperceptibly at first, but slowly building until Carlisle worried she was having a seizure. It got so bad that he was about to lay her out on her side and call for help when she stopped, her eyes sharpening, suddenly focused on his for the first time in two weeks.

They stared at each other. Warm golden irises meeting a shade of crystal-hard blue that seemed to reflect light.

"Alice," he said as gently as he could, and offered his hand. "I'm Carlisle Cullen and it's nice to meet you at last."

In a movement so quick it took even his vampire reflexes by surprise, she flung herself off the bed and into his arms. Patient doctor boundaries disintegrating, Carlisle wrapped his arms around her shaking body as tightly as he dared, holding her as she sobbed, head ducked into his shoulder as if she was trying to permanently attach herself to his marble hard body.

"It's okay." He murmured into her ear – he could feel her heart pounding, every rib as she struggled to catch her breath. Could sense the hope in the arm tightly wrapped around his neck, hanging on with that strange reflexive strength of a newborn baby gripping their mother's finger. "You're safe. You're okay. I'm going to help you, I promise. I promise. You aren't alone in this any longer. You aren't alone."

Carlisle wasn't sure how long he just held her until the wracked breathing started to settle, before the arm relaxed their grip, the fingers loosening their death grip on his clothes. But eventually she fell into her first natural sleep in god knew how long. .

It was even longer before he could bring himself to leave her. He'd go home for a change of clothes (keeping up appearances) and then come back. He would be there when she woke up. He had made a promise

* * *

The sun had crept through the room before she finally stirred. She had slept for over 14 hours, but if anyone had needed it, she did.

She came awake slowly, with barely audible noises, limbs stretching out like a kitten, but once she was awake her body tensed in wariness, eyes focused, alert, scanning the room. Her gaze fell on Carlisle. This time he let her make the first move.

The silence felt interminable.

"Hello." Her voice hadn't been used for while, and half the word was dropped. She winced and tried again. The second time wasn't much better.

"Good morning." Carlisle replied again, gravely. Her hair was sticking up on end and it reminded him of Edward's.

Instead of talking she smiled at him, a heartbreakingly, wide open smile. She was distracted by the play of light on the wall and let out a small giggle.

"Alice," Carlisle tried, "You've been sick."

Her face clouded over.

"But you know me, yes?"

She nodded.

"How do you know me?"

She shook her head, gave a slight shrug. "Dunno," she managed. "Just know. You – and your family."

She smiled again, but this time it was a sad smile.

"Do you – see things?" Carlisle asked.

Her eyes went wide. Staring at him. Fear, Carlisle could read it as clearly as words on a page. She was terrified, her head already instinctively shaking 'No'.

"It's ok if you do." He whispered, leaning in. "It's okay. I'll believe you. I promise. I'll believe anything you say."

Her tiny fists came up, covering her eyes, rubbing at them as if trying to erase the images. Carlisle pulled her hands away, hanging on to them.

"Can you? I have to know. "

She looked at him, pupils mere pinpricks.

"Yes."

"Do you read minds?"

She shook her head. "No I don't think so. I see stuff – but its not all true. It doesn't all happen. But …" here her eyes filled with tears. "A lot of it does. A lot of the bad stuff happens. I see it again and again."

A seven year old seeing the September 11th attacks in her head, front row center seat - seeing that horror, utterly helpless. Not to mention what else she had seen – rapes and murders, beatings – before she even would understand what some of it was. Lacking the maturity and the comprehension to process these images. It was a form of abuse.

"So you meet someone and you see stuff that's happened to them?" Not unlike Aro's power, Carlisle thought – wondering how strong it was. She was still a human- after all.

Alice shook her head. Her eyes fixed on the sheets on of her bed.

There was one more possibility. Carlisle leaned in close, voice as low as he could make it while still being audible to her ears. "Alice – can you see the future?"

She nodded her head even as her lips moved 'no'.

Carlisle tightened his grip on her hand.

"Secret." He whispered.

Alice lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. "Never tell."

* * *

Oh and my goal in this fic is not to use pixie to describe Alice. Although I doubt she'd be more pleased with skeletal! I like pond skimmer or ''water strider'. Trying to find a particularly cute bug.

Next chapter – more Cullens!


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to all who are still reading!

* * *

"A miracle."

Dr. Franks slammed his hand into Carlisle's back with such force that Carlisle worried about broken bones.

"That little girl comes into this hospital," the good doctor continued, "barely responsive and now look at her."

Alice still wasn't very talkative by any definition of the word, but she was engaging and interacting with people, eating food and drinking, capable of responding to questions – although her answers were usually Yes or No – even capable of using logic to solve problems. Her social skills were well below what any normal child would have at her age. Clearly uncomfortable with people being too close, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Her reading level was years behind her biological age, as was the rest of her schoolwork – all things that could be easily attributed to her having spent her life institutionalized. Carlisle could only hope that she didn't have a sense of what she had lost in those last seven years. He fought the anger that threatened to rise up again. What had happened, happened, and it would be better for all of them to move forward, concentrate on the future.

She was a strange mix of naive and world-weary.

Of course Carlisle had told her to say as little as possible to anyone other than himself – too much of a risk – inadvertently discussing the weather to come as opposed to the current. Too easily to slip, as he well knew. He had over three hundred years of constant practice, was hyper-vigilant, and yet more times than not, suspicions would be raised.

"I knew you were a keeper as soon as I laid eyes on you, young Carlisle." Dr Franks gave him another thump, and this time Carlisle was prepared enough to appropriately flinch. "Good work."

"I thought I might try introducing her to some kids closer to her own age – see if that helps the talking." Carlisle suggested.

Dr. Franks tilted his head. "Could help. I don't think we have any younger patients here right now that would be appropriate, though."

"Hmm…" Carlisle agreed. "I was thinking I'd ask my children to stop by."

At Dr. Franks surprised expression, he elaborated. "My children, as you know, have all been in the foster system at various points, have lost their families, parents at young ages. I think they might be able to relate to Alice, and besides it might be good for them to meet her – in this town especially, where there just aren't that many kids in their same position – I think they feel a bit like …. Freaks."

"Well…" Dr. Franks frowned. "If you're sure."

Carlisle nodded. What he didn't say was that his children were more than a little interested in Alice for a lot of other reasons than their shared 'foster status'. Edward in particular had barely let the topic rest, asking about her constantly. He had been the one to suggest that perhaps even if Carlisle didn't recognize her, one of them might. It was an interesting idea, and not one Carlisle had considered.

At four in the afternoon he was paged to the front desk and was pleased to see his three kids waiting.

"How was school?" he asked like any other parent.

"Fine," Rosalie and Emmett chorused back.

"Awful," Edward muttered, sulking like the teenager he was pretending to be and sometimes still was. "Music was today. I got assigned the piano."

Carlisle laid a compassionate hand on his shoulder. Edward hated having to dumb down his talent – but nor did the family want the attention of a musical prodigy in their midst.

"I'll write you a note." Carlisle said. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome was usually a good out for the piano, even if it had the unfortunate consequence of eliminating a lot of other instruments as well. Carlisle would never forget the expression on his son's face when he came home with a didgeridoo that one time.

The four of them walked down the hallway and Carlisle tried to ignore the stares and whispered comments. He hadn't been completely lying when he spoke to Dr. Franks earlier. Even if they had been human their presence was an anomaly in this small town. Adopted kids? So old? They must be troubled – they must have problems – they must have done something.

Then there was their appearance. Being - as Emmett once joked – ridiculously good looking – meant that one attracted both unwanted attention and petty jealousies. Carlisle tried to downplay his looks each day in the hospital with unflattering hair styles and occasionally particularly ugly glasses and ill-fitting clothes - but Rosalie made no such effort, and if anything swung in the opposite direction with designer labels. He didn't make a fuss about it – partly because he understood it - her looks, her appearance was a giant Fuck You to the males who had hurt her, to any male who would try to hurt her. Her appearance was both a shield and a sword, protecting her and giving her power over them. But it didn't help them blend in. As for the boys – well there wasn't much Emmett could do about his large size, and paradoxically, Edward seemed to attract more attention the less work he put into his appearance.

Carlisle's anxieties about attracting unwanted attention were proven founded as Dr. Franks' bellow reached his ears. "And won't you introduce me to your charming children?"

Unlike most men, Dr Frank's attention did not seem focused on Rosalie – but on Emmett. They did look startling similar, Carlisle supposed. Emmett a clean shaven, younger version of the older man. More likely to be father and son than himself and Emmett. Indeed it was only after a few sentences of small talk that Dr Franks threw a burly arm around Emmett's equally burly shoulders and said, 'So son – have you ever thought on entering a little thing called the Eastern Washington Lumberjack circuit?"

Emmett looked bemused but trying to be polite. Carlisle gently excused himself and abandoning Emmett to his own devices, led the other two to Alice's room. Quietly requesting they stay in the hall for now, he knocked as was his habit, and then entered. He crossed over to Alice's bed and accepted the awkward one arm hug that was given as enthusiastically as possible.

"How are you?"

"Bored." Alice replied.

She wasn't allowed to watch television by herself (Carlisle's rule) and her reading level meant the books she could read didn't interest her. The hospital magazine collection was a pitiful mix of medical journals, ancient Sports Illustrateds, and home decorating magazines of dubious quality that Carlisle suspected Esme wouldn't allow cross her door.

"Well I have something that might help. A surprise."

Alice looked up – interested.

"There are some people here who want to see you. They're my children."

Alice bounced. "To see me? They want to see me?"

Carlisle nodded, relieved to see she didn't look frightened.

"Alice – there's more - they know your secret."

Her face fell at this. Her good hand returning to pluck at the threads on the hospital blanket.

"No Alice – its okay – they don't care, and they believe you. They'll keep your secret."

She still didn't look up. Carlisle lightly tapped a finger under her chin.

"You know I have a secret too, don't you?"

It was the first time he had spoken it. But she had made those drawings … she knew certain things.

Alice nodded. "That's why I can trust you."

"Well they have the same secret – so you can trust them, too." He lowered his voice, making her pay extra close attention. "You can talk to them without worrying."

A hint of a smile crept back onto her face. "I'd like that."

Carlisle patted her leg, made sure she understood, then standing, turned back towards the door. "Rosalie, Edward?" Carlisle called, then watched as his two children shuffled their way into the room and stopped just inside the door. "Come closer. I'd like you to meet Alice."

Alice took one look at Rosalie and, with all the innocence of a little girl years younger, asked: "Are you a princess?"

Edward gave a snort.

Carlisle took Rosalie's hand, pulling her forward, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Yes she is. Don't you know, Alice? That every little girl is a princess?"

Alice shook her head, the odd maturity returning again. "No," she said softly, "I don't think I knew that."

"Well," Rosalie cleared her throat, "it's true." She glared at Edward. "Every little girl."

Edward rolled his eyes at his sister but stepped forward. "Would you like to be called Princess Alice?"

She turned her ice-blue eyes to his, studying him. "No," she said after a second, "better not." Edward risked a quick, confused look to Carlisle who replied with a small shoulder shrug.

"Well," Edward said, "that's okay, because honestly – between you and me, I think Princesses are over-rated – they talk about themselves all the time, they hog the bathroom, they leave their things out, so when someone tries to brush their teeth there is crap everywhere - they're noisy –"

"I am not noisy, and taking appropriate time for personal grooming is not 'hogging'. Not that I expect someone with your standards to understand that."

"My standards? The standards of a rational individual without a narcissistic complex? Is that what you mean? You stare at that mirror like you're trying to mind-meld with it!"

"Don't use your scientific language on me! Beside at least I've looked in a mirror recently … you … you … have you seen your hair? I'm surprised a particularly desperate squirrel hasn't tried to mate with it."

"For you to wear make up is ridiculous!"

"Do I attack your personal choices? Do I? Since when is a little eye-liner such a crime – BESIDES who destroyed six nail guns trying to pierce his ear? Mr. Holier-than-thou."

"I told you a million times – THAT WASN'T WHAT I WAS TRYING TO DO!"

Carlisle was about to interrupt this well-tread battleground when he caught a look at Alice's face.

She didn't look afraid, she didn't look scared, she looked – fascinated, enchanted. Like a child watching an egg hatch, or a rose bloom – her eyes following the exchange like she was watching a tennis ball bounce back and forth. He felt his heart break a little bit more for her, then he quietly got up, leaving Edward and Rosalie to their own devices.

"Alice," he heard Rosalie ask as he reached the door, "don't you agree with me? Doesn't Edward's hair look like something large, and unfortunate, sat on it? Good God, for all we know, it could still be in there. I think it could hold at least a squirrel. Maybe two. That hair could have its own zipcode. At least it should have its own health code violation!"

He didn't hear Edward's comeback, but he heard Alice's giggles filling the room as clear as day.

He risked a glance back and got to see the extra reward of both Edward and Rosalie biting back smiles.

* * *

Dr. Franks was on his way home with am unexpected shriek caused him to poke his head into Alice's room. There was Dr. Cullen's giant of a son, carefully holding the little girl upside down by her ankles. Emmett – that was his name - tipped her right side up so that she stood on the bed. There, with her good hand on her hip, looking like an irate Tinkerbelle, she lectured the giant about something, causing him to laugh and glance at his siblings who were nodding in agreement.

He had to admit - she didn't appear to be having any problems interacting with kids closer to her own age.

That Dr. Cullen was clearly a genius – under the right guidance, of course.

* * *

a/n: Will the good times last? For a little while longer I think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Cullen's Residence**

"But what if – " Emmett hesitated, looking to his siblings for support – he was met with blank faces. "You know, what if I sit on her?"

Esme and Carlisle exchanged glances. They were in the midst of one of their rare family meetings when Carlisle had raised the question of Alice living with them. "I know this seems sudden– but she's just so miserable in the hospital alone."

"On a temporary basis?" Rosalie questioned.

Carlisle ran his hand through his hair. "She doesn't have a lot of options," he replied, frustrated. "Obviously we're not a great option, but if she stays with humans – her talent is eventually going to leak – people are going to find out about it – they are going to be frightened – they are going to label it as a mental illness and her as sick - and she's going to end up going straight back into that hole she just managed to crawl her way out of. But –" he raised his head, looking them all in the eye, where they could all see the burden of this decision – "is she any safer with us?"

"We're around humans all day at school," Edward pointed out, "if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm worried about everything." Carlisle admitted.

"It's not just us," Rosalie added. "What if we have unexpected … guests?"

"Our presence makes her a target." Esme said quietly.

"And," Emmett spoke up, then fell silent.

"Emmett?" Carlisle prompted. "This is a family decision, I want to make sure we've examined it from all sides. So go a head Emmett."

"Well – this might sound – it's just – this is our home. It's the only place where we can be ourselves."

"Does she even know what we are?" Rosalie interjected.

Carlisle shook his head. "I don't know. She hasn't said anything, and I haven't told her anything – just that we keep a secret. She knows that." He shrugged. "I willing to bet she doesn't even know what a vampire is to conceive of it. But – I'm not suggesting we hide it from her. We don't eat, we're too quick, we're … not human. As Emmett said – hiding in our own home not a practical solution."

"She'll figure it out if she hasn't already." Rosalie said darkly.

"Breaking one of the rules," Edward added softly. Carlisle acknowledged them both with a nod and a strangely human sigh.

"We'd hide her?"

"She'll be home schooled, at least in the foreseeable future. I couldn't put her into school. She'd be in junior high alone. It would be cruel." The others nodded. "She's years behind the other kids"

"She's smart," Edward spoke up. "Her mind," he elaborated – "it's quick."

"Would we turn her, if we had too?"

Carlisle hesitated. "Not now, hopefully never. But …turning her wouldn't solve all our problems anyway. With her … talents … we would have a whole other set of concerns. You know how uncomfortable the Others are with Edward as it is."

"They're just so fragile." Emmett was staring at his hands, opening and closing them.

"It's just like it is at high school."

"But this is our home, we don't – we wouldn't hide here. " Rosalie said. "What if Emmett's right – not that I think you'll accidentally sit on her," she patted her husband's knee, "but what if one of us accidentally knocks a wall on top of her, or bumps into her too hard."

"The property damaging antics would have to be … restrained." Carlisle agreed.

"Not necessarily a bad thing," Esme put in quietly. Carlisle quirked an eyebrow at her.

"If she gets injured? Sick?" Emmett worried.

"I am a doctor." Carlisle sounded amused. "As is Edward."

Silence fell as everyone looked at each other.

"It's a family decision," Carlisle said finally, "and it has to be unanimous. Doesn't have to be made now. In fact I don't want it to be a quick decision – as we've discussed – it's going to impact us all. But I would ask that you think about it."

They all nodded.

* * *

**Forks Hospital**

**Three days later**

As part of maintaining their cover, Carlisle had himself and Esme listed as "approved but inactive" foster parents in at least one state at all times. It wouldn't hold up to a lot of scrutiny – impossible to place verifiable records for Rosalie, Emmett and Edward every six years, but the foster parent listing was a low hanging fruit in this world of false identities. He never thought he would be using it to try to foster a real human child.

His first hurdle was a familiar one. Dr. Franks.

In a move to engender greater sympathy to his cause, he brought Esme in to meet Alice, making sure Dr. Franks had a good view of the proceedings. When Esme had quietly stepped into Alice's room – she was across the floor, reaching out for the girl before Carlisle could blink, whispering, cradling, running her hands through the spiky hair. As for Alice, she had taken one look at Esme and silently turned her whole body towards her, burying her face in her lap.

Esme looked up.

"Carslile, please," was all she said, and with those two words, Carlisle swore he heard the sound of Dr Franks' opposition crumbling to dust.

By the end of the day they had Dr Franks' signature recommending that the girl Mary Alice Brandon be released from the hospital under Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's guardianship. Now they just had to wait for the paperwork to come back from Child Services – in the meantime, Dr. Franks agreed, with one last look from Esme) that there was no reason why Alice couldn't go home with them as soon as possible.

* * *

"All set?" Carlisle peered into Alice's hospital room for what he hoped was the last time. The sight that meet his eyes was brought a heart felt smile to his face. Esme had purchased some clothes for her to wear ("Rosalee had nothing appropriate!" Esme claimed) , and even remembered to buy something that would fit over the cast still encasing Alice's right hand. Gone from her feet were the flimsy hospital slippers, instead she had a pair of red converses. She was wearing jeans with a violet hoody – and while none of it fit perfectly – for the first time since Carlisle saw her, a pale, terrified, drugged out mess on a gurney - she looked like a normal, happy girl.

The drive home was uneventful, Alice all eyes, asking hundreds of questions – about cars, about trees, about what were traffic laws and what happened when they broke them? Again Carlisle was reminded of how innocent she really was. Leaving her in child services just wasn't an option.

It wasn't until they pulled up into the long driveway that Alice fell silent. Esme reached back, placing a hand on her knee to reassure her.

"It'll be okay," she promised.

Alice nodded, but didn't meet her gaze.

The car pulled out of the woods into the circular driveway before coming to a halt in front of the garage.

"Ready?"

Alice nodded, still looking down.

They had barely shut the car doors behind them when a crack of deafening noise filled the air- complete with a giant flash of light.

Carlisle, Esme, and Alice watched in opened mouthed astonishment as enough fireworks to supply a decades worth of Fourth of July's went off in front of them. Alice grabbed Carlisle's hand as the world around them lit up into a rainbow. Vibrant colours that reflected in the clouds and the water droplets surrounding then, refracting on every leaf and on every blade of glass. By the time the last firework dazzled into the heavens, Alice was crying.

Out of a significant cloud of smoke came Rosalie's voice. "Emmett! What the hell was that?"

Edward's equally disembodied voice floated out. "I thought we had decided on a nice cake."

Emmett's unmistakable shape materialized out of the cloud.

"A cake! Our Alice is more special than that."

The grin that seemed in danger of splitting his face in half faded as he saw Alice's tears.

He glanced, panicked, at Carlisle, then at Edward and Rosalie who were standing beside him.

"What's wrong imp?" he said softly, falling to one knee. "Didn't you like it? Aren't you happy to be here?"

Alice just stared at him. Then wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"I knew, I saw…" she managed over the lump in her throat, "but I never believed."

"Believed what?" Edward asked, bending down next to Emmett, noticing Rosalie doing the same on his other side.

Alice sniffed. Tears falling freely. "That I'd get to be part of the family, too."

It was Emmett who, gently, cautious, carefully, reached out and pulled her towards them all; Rosalie who wrapped her arms around her; and Edward who whispered into her ear -

"Welcome home Sis."

--

FIN

* * *

a/n: did I get a little awwwwww?

;)

I know I just kind of threw this together - but any suggestions on what could be improved? Pacing? Character? Weird writing style?

This wasn't actually supposed to be the end of the story. But then I thought: It kind of works. At least an intermission. Give Alice a break. There may be a part two, but for now, I'm happy to have shared this little piece of self-indulgence with you all. Besos!


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Argh ok. I'll write part two. I'm sure a lot of you (well 'a lot' of the ten of you reading this ) wanted Cullen-fluff – but …. I'm from a big family. And it's rarely boring, but it's rarely easy. So that's how I wrote it.

Oh and for Voldie and Nymphy wondering – Jasper does have a role in this story, but not for a while. I don't think Bella does though.

* * *

**Week One**

**Cullen's Residence**

The phone rang.

And rang.

Flipping through a magazine on the couch, Rosalie didn't look up. "Edward," she called, "it's your turn. I got it last time."

"I'm sitting right next to you," Edward grumbled equally immersed in his National Geographic. "And it's not. I got it the previous three times."

The phone kept on ringing.

"It's not going to answer itself, _Edward_."

"It's your turn, _Rosalie_."

The phone fell silence. There was a second of peace while both Rosalie and Edward turned fresh pages in their magazines.

Edward's cell phone started singing. Rosalie smirked and licked her finger.

"Oh for the love of God." Edward muttered, flipping open his cell. "Hello Esme. Pasteurized vs non-Pasteurized milk? I don't really know the pros and cons – you could buy both. Uh-huh- well I don't think either is bad for you – or they wouldn't be selling it. No – no I don't know that for a fact. Yes of course I can go google it. Hang on. "

Edward covered the phone and sent Rosalie a glare. "Your turn next time," he hissed.

"Do you mind taking it elsewhere?" Rosalie replied, "I'm trying to read."

Edward glanced at his National Geographic, weighed it in his hand, and chucked it at his sister's head.

Alice had been living with them for a week, and Esme had been driving them all crazy with her quest for absolutely perfect nutrition for a malnourished, skinny thirteen year old girl. None of them had paid any attention to the advances in this field over the last century, and had collectively taken a crash course on organic, non-organic, vitamins, iron levels, correct amount of vegetables, fruits, carbs, whole grains, dolphin-safe tuna, protein, healthy fats and non-healthy fats, oils, farmed vs wild salmon, free range chicken eggs, mad cow disease – the list went on and on. Not to mention there wasn't just one answer – it all seemed to be opinions – and for every opinion, there was a never ending list of arguments and counter-arguments.

Esme practically required a legal opinion for each of her 'questions'.

Making things worse, over the last few days Alice had, in what Carlisle had informed them was perfectly natural behaviour for someone in her position, started to randomly refuse to eat stuff. Esme went into a tail-spin worrying about green vegetables percentages.

"She testing us." Carlisle said, and reaching for one of the dozen books they had ordered online about adolescents and teenager and foster kids and 'what to expect'.

"We should just let it go." He advised. But Esme couldn't. She just couldn't.

She had lost one child and she wasn't going to lose another, but it was one more stress on the family.

There were other stresses. Alice's problem of letting people out of her sight. Clingy didn't describe her routine each morning as Carlisle went off to work and the rest went off to school.

"Just one more hug," she'd plead, making Carlisle promise to call home every hour, and the others between each class.

She'd be watching for their return by three pm in the afternoon. Sometimes Esme would take pity on her and drive the kids to school and pick them up.

Then there were the nights. Carlisle sighed. That had been a bad judgment call. On the third night, he had convinced Esme to go hunting with him – she needed it, having barely left Alice's side since she had arrived home. Edward went with them. What they hadn't realized was that Rosalie and Emmett, frustrated with their restricted sex lives, had left the house in order to be as loud as they wanted. When Alice woke up unexpectedly at two in the morning and couldn't find anyone – well – Carlisle closed his eyes. He'd never forget the screams he heard – never forget the expression of terror on Esme's face when they first heard her, still 5 km away, sounding like her world had ended.

Edward had reached the house first, found Alice almost catatonic with fear. That she had been abandoned – that something had happened to them all and she was alone again. Carlisle had to give her a sedative before he could convince her to let go of Edward. He and Esme had tucked her back into bed, and without a word Esme had lain down next to her, determined to be there when Alice woke up.

Nights had hardly been peaceful since then, with Alice periodically waking up and calling for one of them. Among other things it meant they had a perpetually sleep-deprived 13 year old on their hands.

Still, Carlisle thought, watching Alice giggle with Emmett, or copy Edward at the piano, her face serious and focused, or watching Esme's face light up when Alice wrapped her arms around her for a hug – he never regretted his choice, even if frequent pep talks were required for all of them.

She was getting better, things would settle down, all it would take was time – and that – well they had a lot of that.

* * *

**Week Two**

**Hospital**

"All right then."

Dr. Franks was removing Alice's cast, and she was hanging onto Carlisle's arm with her good hand while Dr. Franks carefully cut the white plaster away.

"There," he said, " as good as new."

Alice tentatively waved her arm around, bending her elbow, wiggling her fingers.

"It all works!"

Technically this was one of their weekly check-ins with Dr. Franks. Alice would talk to him for a bit, and then she would wait outside while Carlisle talked with him. She still wasn't as verbal with him as she was with Carlisle, but the time with the Cullens had helped her develop a better filter between her mind and her mouth, and she was beginning to feel more confident talking to strangers. A word they had taught her almost immediately was 'feeling'. "It's normal to have feelings about the future, it's not normal to know about the future. If you slip up and say something, just say it again but this time using words like 'feel', 'hope', 'worry'."

"I'm hoping for sun tomorrow, I'm worrying about rain." She practiced.

But the truth was her visions hadn't been a problem. Carlisle wasn't sure she had one since the last one in the hospital. Like their vampire-ism, it wasn't a bridge he was looking to cross until he had too.

Finished, Dr. Franks handed over a lollipop that vanished into Alice's mouth almost immediately. "Well done m'dear."

The three of them walked back to Carlisle's office where Esme was waiting for them. With a touch of old fashion courtesy, Dr. Franks kissed her hand. Carlisle opted for a peck on the cheek. Alice was still experimentally using her right arm.

"Now I'll be even better at wii," she told Esme, words muffled around the lollipop.

"And homework." Esme added, "and drawing. Would you like to pick up some art supplies on the way home? Paper, pencils? You can borrow mine, but I always think it's nicer to have your own."

Alice's attention suddenly became captivated by a thread on her sleeve.

"I like art too," Esme added. "We can draw together."

Alice looked up. "I'd like that."

Dr. Franks and Carlisle watched them walk off together.

"Amazing, Carlisle, absolutely amazing, the progress you've made with her."

"It's been Esme, really."

"Still," Dr. Franks placed a friendly hand on Carlisle's shoulder, "don't underestimate yourself. You know, when you first agreed to come here, I wasn't sure what to think. A hot shot young doctor, credentials out the wazoo if you can excuse the language, why would you accept our offer? I wondered."

"My family- " Carlisle began as he always did. But Dr. Franks waved him silent.

"Yes, yes, but still. Forks? Anyway – what I wanted to say is that I'm going to do my best to make sure your career doesn't suffer here. I was once something of a hot-shot myself and I still have some pull in some places."

"That's, uh, very generous." Carlisle couldn't think of what else to say. He didn't particularly want Dr. Franks interfering with his career, but protesting too much would likely result in drawing more, not less, attention. "Honestly, I, and my family, are very happy here. I don't regret it at all."

The hand on the shoulder tightened, "ambition, son. That's what you need, a bit of self-confidence and some ambition." With a knowing smile that worried Carlisle, Dr. Franks released his shoulder and walked off down the hallway whistling.

Carlisle frowned slightly. Maybe he'd have to start waving the religious nut job flag that he sometimes reserved for such eventualities, when people started to get too close, too involved, too curious.

"Why Forks?"

"God's plan."

"Why did you live so far out of town?"

"God's work."

Nobody expected faith to be rational.

* * *

For the fourth time in as many days, Carlisle came home to utter chaos. For a second he contemplated returning to his car.

Edward was banging away on his piano, Rosalie stomping around, setting the table for what looked like a formal dinner. Carlisle frowned. "Are we having humans over?"

"No," she snapped back.

"Where's Esme?"

"Shopping for fresh food."

The phone rang.

"I'M NOT GETTING THAT." Edward howled over a pounding set of chords, shaking the glass in the windows.

Rosalie shot Carlisle a look that could have razed a forest.

Carlisle raised a hand in surrender, grabbing the phone.

"Hello dear. Brown or white eggs? Brown. Yes. Yes. I'm absolutely sure. Good-bye. Love you too."

He hung up.

"Where is Alice?"

"Playing with Emmett."

Carlisle nodded.

This was Alice's new favourite game. 'Surprise Emmett'.

It had started innocently enough. Alice jumping off a couple of steps, Emmett catching her. But it had progressed to Alice jumping off entire flights of stairs, over the second floor railing, out of trees, anything. She liked to surprise Emmett, so she would wait in ambush as he got home from school.

Emmett, terrified of missing her, dropping her, did not enjoy it as much.

Edward and Rosalie would just exit their cars and stride into the house, but Emmett would hang back, scrutinizing every ledge, every possibly hiding space.

Returning home from school was the most stressful part of Emmett's day.

Sure enough, Carlisle cocked his head as he heard a high pitch shriek mixed with a deep shout of surprise, and then Alice's unmistakable giggle.

"Sounds like he caught her."

He and Rosalie exchanged glances, and Carlisle didn't miss the small smile on her face. He had expected that Rosalie would cause the most problems with Alice, that she would be jealous of her, or resent her for the adjustments they all had to make. A presumption he now realized was unfair. With Alice, Rosalie had been nothing but patient. Like a tiger unexpectedly taking a kitten under its protection. Her relationship with Alice seemed not to be based on the mutually playing or tormenting that Alice reserved for Emmett, or whatever the strange sort of bond that Alice had formed with Edward almost instantly, but there was a sort of understanding, none the less. Rosalie had been a victim of abuse – a different type of abuse, but perhaps that's what underlay her tolerance. Carlisle had been surprised time and time again by the patience Rosalie displayed with Alice. Enjoyment, rather than jealously at Alice's antics with Emmett, a willingness to answer Alice's sometimes infinite questions about this or that, to share her clothes and magazines.

He leaned over and planted a kiss on the side of Rosalie's head.

"I'm proud of you."

Startled, Rosalie's mouth twisted into a half smile, half frown at the compliment.

"So why the table?" Carlisle asked.

The half smile was swallowed by the frown.

"Esme read that eating together was very important for a human child. Plus apparently Alice's table manners are atrocious."

"Ah I see," although he didn't.

"So we're all going to sit here and pretend to eat." Rosalie explained.

Carlisle sighed. "Good practice I suppose," he tried gamely. But Rose wasn't having any.

"Look Carlisle, we agreed, we wouldn't have to hide ourselves, this is turning into a farce –"

"I'll talk to Esme. I promise."

Rosalie looked doubting. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'll talk to her."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Rosalie relaxed. "Thanks Carlisle." She smiled at him, a genuine smile, all the more bright for its rareness.

An hour later the glare was back full force as they all took their seats at the table, Esme triumphantly serving the first course.

* * *

AN: and up next – a family dinner!


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Ok well here goes no. seven. I really doubt I can pull this chapter off. Apologies in advance if it crosses some lines for you! Oh and I apologize for the spelling/typos. It's my foible. I'm a terrible speller (have been since second grade) and can never ever "see" my mistakes. Betas and I don't seem to work out, so this is kinda the best that I've got.

* * *

Esme had made it clear that dinner was not optional, and Carlisle, correctly interpreting Rosalie's pinched shoulders, and stomping feet, sent her away to fetch something, while he finished setting the table. When Esme decided to do something, she didn't do it by halves, he concluded, based on the weight of the silverware currently gracing the lace tablecloth and the number of pots on the stove.

"Can I help?" a soft voice queried. Carlisle glanced down.

Alice had obviously picked up on the tension, and was standing there one hand tightly gripping another.

"That would be great munchkin."

A smile cracked her sometimes too serious face at the nickname and Carlisle found himself hoping that she didn't grow up too fast.

"Okay," he said, working his way around the table, her his shadow. "You've got the main plate right? Then you've got glasses and the bread plate. The glass goes on the right and the bread goes on the right. He pinched his thumb to his fingers. "You can remember because the left hand makes a 'b' for bread and the right hand makes a 'd' for drink.

She copied him.

"Now Esme is making soup as well, which generally is the first course, and is served in a soup bowl that is placed on your plate. The soup spoon," he held up a spoon, "is larger than the other spoons and will generally be on your left handed side of cutlery." He showed her how to hold a soup spoon.

He glanced at her, "you know why good table manners are important?"

She shook her head.

"Well," Carlisle continued. "Not everyone agrees on this, but I think its important because table manners, just like all manners – are a code that everyone has agreed is 'polite'. So when you have good manners you are saying 'I respect you' to make the effort to be polite, or even if you don't like the person, 'I respect the effort you have made for me.' To have bad manners is to be extremely rude to your hosts, your guests, or your family or friends."

"Like please and thank-you?"

"Exactly. If you said, 'Carlisle, give me the salt.' I'd probably still give you the salt but I wonder why you were being rude to me."

"Even if I'm not trying to be rude to you?"

"Well that's how I know. If you're trying to be nice to me, you'd say 'please', if you're not, you don't. It's a code."

Alice went around the table laying out the forks, her head was tucked low and she was obviously thinking about something. Carlisle waited until she had done one full circle around the table.

"So does it make sense?"

Alice nodded, but she didn't look up. "Do you think," she said in a voice that would be inaudible for human ears, "that's what I did wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"Well – I didn't know good manners. Do you think maybe that's what I did wrong?"

Carlisle was still missing something. "When?"

"When I was little. Before." She waved a hand. "Before you, before the hospitals, before." She met his eyes and they were dry but sad. "Do you think I had bad manners?"

Carlisle dropped to his knees, laid as his hands as gently as possible on her thin shoulders. "Alice, sweetheart, listen to me. What happened to you - Bad things happen to good people all the time. You're a good person. You didn't do anything wrong, you weren't being punished for anything. Some people will say that bad things happen to bad people and good things happen to good people. But it's not true. Bad things happen to good people all the time. Horrible terrible things to beautiful bright girls."

"I think about it a lot." She admitted quietly. "Trying to understand."

"Bad things happen to good people," he kissed her lightly on her temple. "And it almost never ever makes sense. And you know what? Even if you had been the most horrible, terrible, rudest six year old ever, in the entire history of the world? You still wouldn't have deserved what happened to you. It was not your fault."

"So if bad things happen to good people, why be good?"

"Don't." Rosalie's voice cut harshly across the table. Carlisle looked up, startled, wondering how long she'd been standing there, listening. "There's no point in being good – a concept that is so morally relative that it's laughable - it's a waste of time."

She disappeared in front of Alice's confused gaze. Carlisle tried to rescue his point. "You're good – because living in a world where everyone was as mean as possible to everyone else – that would be pretty terrible wouldn't it?"

It seemed to work as Alice focused on him.

"Do you understand?" He prompted.

She nodded. "You wouldn't have helped me. If you wanted to be mean to me." Alice said. "And I'd still be there."

Carlisle leaned in close. "I'd never be mean to you, Alice. And remember, no one is born with good manners. No one. Why you should have seem Emmett's table manners." He tried to joke, but she didn't smile. He took her hands in his, gave them a slight squeeze to make sure she was paying attention to what he said next.

"No one is born with good manners. It's one of the things that parents have to teach their kids. Which is why I'm teaching you." He waited for her reaction, for the words to sink in.

She nodded, glanced at him one more time before focusing again on the knives in her hand. Carlisle watched as she went around the table for a second time, carefully placing them one by one, the sharp edge to the outside - a slow smile growing on her face, as she occasionally glanced at him to make she was doing it correctly..

When Esme finally declared dinner ready, Emmett was washing his hands after a successful hunt, and Carlisle sent Rosalie up to get Edward. 'Preferably without yelling or breaking something.'

"Napkin first," he instructed Alice, sitting to his right. Esme was still in the kitchen.

He had barely finished the sentence when he heard a crash as the piano music ended abruptly with Edward yelling "what the hell are you doing?" A series of crashes followed, then he had two furious vampires in the kitchen shouting at each other.

"You could have broken my piano!"

"Good if I had. Maybe you'd help out more!"

"SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET." It was rare that Carlisle shouted but the effect was instantaneous as Rosalie and Edward dropped into their seats. Their teasing was usually playful, but like all teasing, it could be a knife's edge away from nastiness. Carlisle was beginning to think that they were skating across lines that should not be crossed.

"That's better." Carlisle continued. "Esme went to a lot of trouble and we are going to display some manners tonight. Right Alice?'

"Right," she replied softly.

"Which means. No yelling. No breaking anything. Rosalie, Edward – dig deep please." He winked at Alice.

"This is a joke." Rosalie said bitterly, but quietly. Edward opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Esme and Emmett taking their seats.

Esme smiled across the table at Carlisle. "Would you mind, saying Grace?"

Carlisle could practically hear Rosalie's teeth snap together. Across for her, Edward played with his cutlery.

Carlisle bent his head. "For what we're about to receive may the lord make us truly thankful, amen."

Emmett and Esme were the only ones who echoed him.

"Smells wonderful." He said quickly, with a smile for Esme's benefit, ignoring Rosalie's snort. Esme gave him a nervous smile in return, with a quick glance at Alice.

Alice was surveying the table with a worried frown of her own.

"Is something wrong Alice?" Carlisle wondered. Her earlier good mood seemed to have evaporated.

She met his gaze and shook her head but didn't look reassured.

"Why are we doing this?" Rosalie complained, barely under her breath. Too low for Alice to hear but everyone else could hear perfectly.

"For Alice," Edward hissed back. "Don't ruin this like you ruin everything else."

Esme was busy explaining to Alice that soup should be scoped out of its bowl away from oneself, then brought back, and it should never be blown on. But she spared a glance down the other end of the table. Alice's frown deepened.

"I didn't ask you, Edward."

"Just helping you out, Rosalie."

"Children." Carlisle said, low and quick, with a hint of a growl.

Alice flinched. Which didn't make sense – she couldn't have heard him.

"Good conversation –" Esme was saying. "Emmett – why don't you tell us about your day?"

"Good." Emmett tried. "I had math, chemistry, English before lunch, then history and geography after lunch."

"How was that?"

"Geography? Good. Kinda the same as the last time I took it." Emmett shrugged. "Any questions, on the continents, Alice? There are six of them."

"Seven." Esme corrected, shooting him a strange look. "You have a photographic memory – how do you not remember that?"

"Oh I try not to pay too much attention – takes the suspense out of the exam."

He grinned at Esme who just shook her head – but was smiling back.

Alice tried another spoonful of soup, even as her eyes flicked again to Rosalie and Edward. The two of them were locked in some sort of staring contest. Rosalie's fingers tightened on her empty glass until it cracked. Alice jumped, her spoon rattling against the edge of her bowl.

"Yeah? Maybe some of us enjoy our human memories." Edward shot back, breaking the silence, replying to something only he heard.

"Edward, enough." Carlisle warned.

"Interesting thoughts, Rosalie." Edward continued as if Carlisle hadn't spoken. "You were eating a dinner like this one …. " Edward's eyes were closed.

"Stop it."

"And you thought he was good looking." Edward opened his eyes, glanced at Emmett, "but it's not him. Ah it's from when you were human. Of course."

"Get out of my head." Rosalie snarled. "This dinner is ridiculous!"

Alice ate her soup faster.

Edward narrowed his eyes at Rosalie. "But you don't think it's ridiculous." He said, slowly but surely. "You're thinking of before you got engaged, when Royce ate with your family, how his manners were always perfect – and how you should have seen something, noticed something, but you didn't."

"SHUT UP."

Bringing up Rosalie's human past was always a mistake.

Yes, Alice reminded them all of their human days – Carlisle knew that – but he hadn't realized until that moment, watching Rosalie not-watch Alice, but glare instead at Edward as if he was the devil himself - that he had colossally underestimated how much. Carlisle's own human days felt like murky, ancient history, but then again, he had never been a thirteen year old girl, and Rosalie had. He had a flash of insight of where Rosalie's unexpected tolerance and understanding for Alice had come from.

"You," Rosalie was saying, "might hate who we are, might love to be human, but I'm glad I'm no longer human – no longer that weak individual – no longer unable to protect myself."

"Yes, because you were such an innocent victim." Edward sniped back without thinking. "You're a bitch now, and you were a bitch before - maybe if you had been nicer –"

Everything happened at once. Carlisle shouting at Edward, Rosalie lunging across the table at Edward, Emmett trying to grab her arm.

Rosalie screaming, "You asshole! I'm going to tear your precious piano apart key by key."

Emmett yelling at Edward, "Why can't you just leave her alone?"

"I don't need your help!" Rosalie turned on Emmett.

"You thought it!" Edward yelled at Rosalie. "I just said it. But you were thinking it!"

"Edward!" Carlisle roared. "ENOUGH."

But it was too late, Edward had crossed that line.

Rosalie stood up from the table in a crash. Esme grabbed Alice, pulling her out of the way.

"No – she should know who we are. You may be embarrassed, Edward. But I'm not. We're not the monsters."

In a flash Rosalie was gone. Emmett had barely stood up to go after her, Carlisle laying a restraining hand on his shoulder, when Rosalie was back, and in her hand she held a struggling rabbit.

"Alice should see exactly what we are." But she wasn't looking at Alice, she was looking only at Edward, who refused to met her gaze. "I'm not ashamed. I' m proud. Humans are the monsters, Edward, not us. We shouldn't hide."

She bit into the rabbit, as it let out a piercing cry, silenced but not silenced enough. By accident or not she had chosen an artery and the blood pumped out, quick and bright, spilling over its soft brown fur as it struggled, dripping onto the white table cloth.

Alice's and Esme's twin gasps of horror pulled Carlisle attention towards and he couldn't help but notice that while Alice looked horrified and slightly disgusted, and maybe evena little curious – she did not look shocked.

Edward leapt to his feet in defence of Alice and Esme.

"You have to ruin everything – don't you?"

"Shut up Edward. I'm sick of you idealizing humanity. It's terrible and horrible. I'm glad to be who I am. Proud of it."

"Please stop this," Esme begged. "We don't have to do this. Dinner's over, okay?"

Carlisle agreed, even as he wondered how their family dinner on apparently much-needed manners turned into a screaming match on human-vampire morality. This, along with religion and politics – should not be discussed at dinner, he decided.

"We're monsters." Edward growled.

"Humanity – that is the monster. Look what they did to Alice? To Esme? To …" but Rosalie couldn't complete the sentence. She swallowed, changing tact, "Maybe humanity was so great to you – but at what cost to the rest of us? Becoming what I am is the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Alice you're excused." Carlisle wished he had sent her away earlier, she'd already heard too much - but better now than even later.

Alice hesitated, her worried face flashing between them. But Carlisle didn't have time right now to reassure her.

"Now. Leave." It came out sharper than he intended but he couldn't help it. For her own safety. she needed to not be here. Carlisle didn't dare take his eyes of Rosalie and Edward. Their fights had gone violent before, and Edward had pushed Rosalie too far tonight.

Esme got up to follow.

"Esme," Carlisle said. "Leave her, we need you here. I need you here. We are going to talk this over like the rational individuals we are."

Rosalie was already shaking her head. "There's nothing to discuss."

"I'm not apologizing."

"STOP READING MY THOUGHTS," there was a flash of silverware as Rosalie hurled a fistful of forks at Edward, then fled.

"You can be a real jerk, you know that Edward?" With that, Emmett was gone as well.

"I can't help what she thinks!" Edward shouted after him. "Yeah? You too!" He grabbed a fork that had gotten stuck in his hair, and tossing it on the table, left. A few seconds later it sounded like he was saving Rosalie the trouble and destroying his piano himself.

Esme and Carlisle sat, left in the ruins of their first family dinner.

Yes, Carlisle thought, food not eaten, giant arguments surfacing in unexpected ways, glares, broken glasses and cracked plates - this was pretty much how he remembered family dinners with his father going.

"I'm going after Rosalie," Esme murmured. "Edward really hurt her. I'm not sure if Emmett is … well if he's the right one to talk to her."

"Edward knows." Carlisle said. "Things just out of control. But no ones dead, no one's bitten. It's all fixable." He managed to smile at his wife even she wasn't able to return it.

He'd let everyone cool off, then they'd regroup. He was partially responsible for this mess, even if Esme currently seemed determined to shoulder most of the blame herself - he should have been paying more attention to how Alice's presence was affecting all of them, not just how they were affecting her.

Three hours later, Esme had returned without Rosalie or Emmett, and Edward had finally let the last notes of his anger fade into silence.

He emerged from his studio, hair a mess, shoulders slumped miserably.

"I'm sorry," he said, pinching his nose. "Look Carlisle, Esme, I wanted to apologize – especially to you Esme – we've not been as helpful as we could have been with Alice – Rosalie just always seems to - " suddenly his head tilted, his eyes losing their focus, Carlisle recognized the look.

"Something's wrong." Edward said, his eyes snapping back to focus on their faces. "I can't – Alice - she isn't here."

Esme leapt to her feet.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't – I can't hear her at all."

The three of them made a dash for her room. They didn't need to turn on the lights to see that it was empty, the bed not slept in, the few small possessions she had, gone.

Carlisle reached for Esme's hand.

"She left a note." Edward handed it to Carlisle. There, in her childish block print were two words:

I'M SORRY.

...tbc

* * *

AN: Yes, I too can't believe I murdered a bunny! I'm clearly ready to be a vampire! Jasper where are you? I HAVE A PAPER CUT TOO.

Hee hee hee.

But seriously, the women in the Twilight? Gang-rape, domestic violence, abuse & abandonment in mental hospitals for 'feelings/witchcraft' ? Jeez, who wouldn't rather be a vampire? Seems like its just code for equality.

… hmmm I think there's a vampire feminist short story in there somewhere.


	8. Chapter 8

and we're back...

* * *

Alice ran through the woods, away from the house. She had instinctively followed the little nudges inside her telling her when to pause behind a door, or when to duck, or even when to take a step to disguise the creak of a floor board under Rosalie's shouts.

She sometimes imagined these nudges were her mother guiding her from wherever she was. Other times, when she couldn't believe she was ever lucky enough to have a mother, she imagined the nudges came from her secret twin, buried inside her, the way she had overheard a nurse saying sometimes happened to twins. It made sense, maybe she had absorbed her twin when they were in their mother's stomach, and that was why bad things happened to her.

There was something wrong with her. She knew that, no matter what Carlisle said. Not only did her wrongness cause bad things to happen to her, it caused bad things to happen to anyone who was near her. That had been her greatest fear, her largest suspicion as to why no one wanted her. They knew she was tainted, bad luck. She had only been in the Cullen's house for a week, and already she had ruined their beautiful perfect family. She heard the shouting, the slamming of doors – she had caused that. If she had stayed, someone, maybe Carlisle, maybe Esme would have knocked on her door, sat down gently on her bed and said "I don't think this is working." They would have been nice about it, but Alice didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear so badly that without even thinking she filled her backpack with what little she had, grabbed the jacket Esme had bought her, her new art supplies, then tried to write a note. In the end all she could say was how sorry she was for who she was, for what she had done to them. They were nice people, they were good people. They didn't deserve what she brought to them.

If her options were going back to the hospital or being a runaway – well, that wasn't a choice. She'd take her chances on her own, or maybe live in the forest. She'd rather be dead then go back to the hospital.

So she ran, light little feet curiously in step with the night, until any sound she made was swallowed by the rustling of trees and the soft calls of nocturnal creatures.

One pair of blood-red eyes watched her leave. He moved nothing but his head, tracking her progress. He had been watching her for the past week, had been watching the others for even longer. Her emotions lit her up so easily that it was impossible to miss her. Like a comet across a clear night sky. He had never met someone whose emotions were so easy to read, such a joy to absorb. She was like the flame on a candlewick. Tiny, fragile yet strong enough to banish the dark. It was her fault he was here a week longer than he should be, risking Maria's wrath, and risking detection.

Her name was Alice and Jasper was both fascinated and terrified of her.

He could hear angry piano music, probably the one known as Edward, he surmised. Minutes earlier three of the vampires had flashed out the house in quick succession, vanishing into the woods. Anger mixed with concern rolled at him in waves. He was down wind, and safe from their detection, but to him the wind carried their scent and their voices. Then about half an hour later, she had slipped out.

He watched her progress, trying to decide whether to go after her. She was not one of the ones he was ordered to watch. He well knew the consequences of breaking an order. But her movement caught his attention, her odd synchronicity with the world around her, allowing her to move so easily. Had he not been watching the very door she had emerged from, he probably would have missed her.

Still. She was not a vampire – technically not his concern. The wind was shifting in the trees, he would have to move or risk being detected. He silently swung his way out of his current tree, couldn't help but notice that the change of wind would mean that the breeze would be at her back as well, hurrying her away, blowing her scent away from the house.

Plus there was always the possibility … his eyes scanned the dark woods around him. Nothing - but he knew that didn't mean anything. Maria didn't take chances. Maria was paranoid – most dear leaders were.

He hesitated, then, with one last look back at the house, followed her. He was curious. She was an anomaly – could be useful, he told himself. Worth checking out, Jasper determined. As for Maria - well he'd have to risk her finding out. If the human girl turned out to be useful, then perhaps Maria would forgive him.

Unaware of the eyes watching her go and the decision behind them, Alice ran on.

* * *

**Cullen Residence**

Esme sat on the couch, head resting on her hands, a gesture that was both unnecessarily human, and reminiscent of a prayer.

Edward and Carlisle were out doing a sweep of the area. She had started with them but Carlisle had thought it was a good idea for someone to be here. She had reluctantly agreed.

The commotion at the front door interrupted her thoughts and she looked up hopefully, only to see Rosalie and Emmett entering.

"Alice is missing." She greeted them bluntly.

"What do you mean?"

"She ran away." Esme fought to keep her voice even. She held out the short note; didn't miss the flash of emotion on Rosalie's tightly controlled face as she read it.

"Oh no," Emmett breathed. Emmett, on the other hand, was an open book compared to Rosalie, concern written all over his face. "What can I do? Are Edward and Carlisle out looking for her?"

Esme nodded.

"How is this possible?" Rosalie asked, "how could she sneak out? How have they not found her already?"

Emmett nodded. Humans were noticeable.

"We were all so distracted, and Carlisle thinks – well he thinks that maybe she… subconsciously … knows likely outcomes – can sense what is going to happen if she makes one choice or another."

Rosalie froze thinking about this. Then unthinkingly reached out to grab Esme's hand.

"Esme, she's a little girl, we have to find her."

Esme just shut her eyes. "I know."

"I'll go find them." Emmett promised, unable to stay silent. "And her. Promise. Nothing will happen to her. I promise Esme. Right Rose?"

Rosalie stood up too, but couldn't bring herself to make promises she couldn't keep.

"We'll find her." Rosalie said simply.

Any response Esme could have given was lost as Edward and Carlisle crashed into the room – Esme's heart leapt then fell again as she didn't see Alice wrapped in either of their arms.

"We have a new problem." Carlisle said seriously.

"Someone's been here. Watching." Edward put in. "I … I sensed him. Just for a second, then he was gone." Frustration written large on his face. "I tried again but couldn't get anything. But we found evidence that he's been here, once we started looking. "

"Why?" Rosalie asked. "Why watch us?"

Carlisle shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe just curiosity – a nomad passing through. But … I think he's been here… some time and I do not want any of us alone. Understood?"

"Carlisle – Alice. What if he saw –"

"I don't think there is an 'if' about it. We have to assume he saw her. We have to assume he knows about us. But he didn't kill her immediately Esme. He didn't kill her here. I'm going back out –we're going to track him, we're going to find her. Rosalie I want you to stay here with Esme in case Alice calls – and if she does – call me first before doing anything. You understand?

"You think …"

"I don't know what to think," Carlisle answered, "but if someone wanted to – if they wanted to get to us for whatever reason – she's the easiest way and we're not going to help anyone by rushing into a situation. If Alice calls you – call me."

"Emmett, Edward – Ready?"

"No." Rosalie spoke up. "I'm going too."

"Rosalie…"

"Do any of you have the first clue where or what a thirteen year old girl might be thinking?"

Carlisle stared at his adopted daughter for a second, then gave a quick nod. "Emmett – you stay here. Edward, Rosalie – Let's go."

They were gone before Emmett had a chance to protest. Esme resumed her position on the couch, forehead resting on hands, and Emmett swore he heard her whispering, but he knew it wasn't to him, and tried not to listen.

* * *

When Alice finally reached a road, she'd been running through the woods for over half an hour and was exhausted. She crouched down in the underbrush, considering her options. She needed to catch a lift. She couldn't keep on running. She'd have to wave down a car. It was a quiet road and she had to wait five minutes before a truck came along. Trusting her nudge, she let it pass. It was another ten minutes before the next one – this time she didn't have a feeling either way, and decided to risk it.

* * *

Jasper followed the girl to the road. Watched as she crouched in the ditch while the first five cars went by. He wondered what she was waiting for. The sixth one seemed to meet her requirements and she waved it down.

It stopped a little a head of her, and she ran up to it.

It was easy to hear her conversation with the driver, explaining how her older sister had played a joke on her and left her out here – could she get a ride back to the town?

She climbed in and as the car pulled out, Jasper followed.

* * *

Carlisle, Edward and Rosalie ran through the woods. Tracking Alice from her all too human scent. They stopped at the road, losing the trail.

"She got in a car." Carlisle almost moaned.

"Carlisle, I'm … I'm so sorry." Edward began.

"Me, too."

"No." Carlisle turned on them, surprising them with his anger. "We are not having this conversation now. Not a word unless it directly relates to finding Alice. Understood?"

Like twin puppets they nodded.

"Now spread out – we may have lost Alice – but if the other vampire is tracking her – we can track him."

A few moments later Rosalie let out a shout – "he was here. And he's moving with her." She looked down the road, almost standing on her toes in her eagerness to go after him. "You were right, Carlisle."

"Okay," Carlisle took control. "Rosalie- head back to the house, get a car, meet me at the end of the driveway."

She nodded and was gone.

"Edward – have you got your cell phone on you? Good. Follow his trail, be fast but not blind – stay alert for his thoughts or Alice's, or people thinking about either of them. If she's heading towards a populated area that's our best bet. I don't want you accidentally running on top of him. This situation is bad, but it could be worse. You understand?"

"Yes."

"We'll contact you when we get on the road."

"Carlisle –"

"I said not now - Edward. Go."

Edward nodded and then was gone.

* * *

Alice had switched cars three times, each time with a different excuse to explain away her presence out here alone. "Trying to get home from a party," was her latest.

"Where's home?"

"Seattle." Alice said, naming the only big city that she knew was relatively close.

The guy, who looked not that much older than Emmett - shaggy hair, text books and take-away wrappers scattered across the back seat - had shaken his head at her. "Kids these days," he had said. But had taken pity on her, driving her to a truck stop diner just off the interstate.

"Can't go any farther. Find a phone and call your mom and dad, ok kid?"

Alice couldn't control the look of pure grief that flashed across her face at those words. No mom, no dad. Not for her.

"You're not going home to your parents, are you?"

Alice just shook her head.

"Aw jeez kid." They stared at each other. "Here," the guy handed her a twenty. "Good Luck."

Alice managed to smile her thanks and slip out of the car, heading towards the diner, lit up with a 24 hours sign. Alice walked passed idling trucks, wheels as high as her head. There were dozens and dozens of trucks and she wondered if the driver's slept in their cabs. She didn't like the idea of having to go knocking on them to find a ride. She was already tired, the cold air snaking into her light jacket, and she shivered, picking up her pace.

She paused at the entrance to the diner, looked back to see the car that had given her a lift flash its headlights at her and then pull out.

She took a deep breath. Looked at the money in her hand, and entered.

* * *

He liked truck stops, their transient nature. Hard to look out of place when everyone looked out of place. He had seen her get out of the car, watched as the car pulled away, noticed how she stared after it pocketing the money. Saw how she had slung her backpack over her shoulder with a sigh and started towards the diner. She was alone. He was sure of it. She had 'runaway' written all over her. She looked young, but that was her problem, not his, besides that was what they did right? Make themselves look as young as possible? His buddy said that you should add five years onto any hooker, ten if it's dark. He had a bit of extra cash burning a hole in his pocket, she might be desperate enough. Otherwise, he'd just wait have to wait until Seattle.

Wayne Stevens stretched, then exited the cab of his truck, sauntering towards the restaurant.

* * *

Rosalie chose the Audi TT 2-2 coupe, Carlisle noted with approval as it sped down the driveway towards him. It was a good choice. Fast, but inconspicuous enough to blend in, and enough room for all of them. Rosalie slowed the car, and he easily slid into the passenger seat.

"She's going to try to get out of Fork's." Rosalie said, and Carlisle appreciated how her mind focused on the problem in front of them. "Her best bet is going to be Seattle – for traffic reasons – at this time of night that's where people will be going, and to hide from us. She's running away from us, you understand that?"

"And possibly this vampire?" Carlisle asked, more for Rosalie's thoughts than any personal belief of his own.

Rosalie shook her head. "No – she didn't know about this vampire. And even if he approached him – I doubt she'd be afraid of him."

"Thanks to us."

"Thanks to us." Rosalie agreed, her words holding none of Carlisle's bitterness and self-recrimination. "She's not exactly inconspicuous - we'll find her and bring her home."

Carlisle nodded, but didn't say anything. He texted Edward to let him know they were on the road, taking the most direct roads to Seattle. Asked him to let him know if he had any information suggesting that was the wrong course of action. He flipped the phone shut when he was done.

"She's never had a family before." Carlisle said softly. "I should have realized that she wouldn't understand your and Edward's fights. I should have stopped you guys before it got so far out of hand."

Rosalie glanced at him. "As much as I hate to burst your bubble on this Carlisle, you are not, actually, the boss of Edward and I. We're responsible for our own actions. No one else."

Carlisle shook his head. "It's my house. We've agreed to certain boundaries in behaviour, a certain level of respect. Edward went too far. It was inexcusable what he said to you. Rape – " he didn't miss how Rosalie flinched over the word, even all these years later – "is never ever the victim's fault. It's never ever something someone asked for or deserved. I won't have someone thinking otherwise in my house, even for a second."

"Edward knows that. I know that." Rosalie said quietly. "He wasn't thinking, neither of us were."

Silence fell and Rosalie knew he wasn't thinking of her anymore.

"Alice has no idea about the world." He said softly, finally. "None. She has no idea."

Rosalie pushed a little harder on the gas pedal.

* * *

Gwen had been working truck stop diners on the I-5 for the past 14 years. Had started in LA, and slowly had moved north. She had seen everything, people travelling- well, they were people in the middle of going somewhere or leaving something. She'd seen teenagers heading off to college, she'd seen newlyweds striking off together, she'd seen people coming home to celebrate births, and others returning for funerals. Over time she had seen the cars get smaller, the trucks get larger, the men who drove them grow old, but never really change.

At three in the morning it was mostly truck drivers, or exhausted twenty-somethings, too cheap for motels, stopping for a much needed pick me up. She'd always try to tell them to park the car, take some shut eye for a few hours, and sometimes they listened. Those were the usual customers, but the little girl who had snuck through the door and slid into a booth was not usual. She looked too young to even be runaway, eight or nine. Must be on some big cross-country trip with her old man.

Gwen made sure the coffee pots were filling (fresh coffee made every hour, was the current marketing slogan), and then cruised over to her.

"Does your dad know you're in here alone, Sweetpea?"

The girl tensed, then relaxed, turning to her with a bright open smile and wide-as-the-sky blue eyes. "I couldn't sleep and didn't want to keep him up with my reading. Is it okay if I read in here?"

Gwen raised her estimate of her age a few years.

"Of course darling." She put a menu down. "My name is Gwen – like the singer – " she struck a pose, eliciting a giggle. "Let me know if you want something. We've got the best hot chocolate on the I-5."

The girl blinked, stifling a yawn. She might have said she couldn't sleep – but she looked exhausted. Eyes blinking, cheek propped up on fist, slumped over the table. She had perked up at the sound of the hot chocolate, though.

"Shoot! And I almost forgot. First one's on the house."

The girl looked blank.

"For free," Gwen clarified.

"That's not right. I have money. My dad gave me money."

"Sorry, but it's kinda a rule here. All kids get their first hot chocolate free. You wouldn't want me to get in trouble would you?"

The reaction she got wasn't expected, as the girl's eyes filled with tears. "No," she whispered, horrified.

"Oh sweety, no – it's okay. Don't cry. You won't get me in trouble! I promise."

The girl nodded, but the bright smile of earlier was gone.

"I'm Gwen, if you need anything else."

"Alice."

"Well Alice, now that you and I have that all settled ." She winked. "I'll be right back with your hot chocolate."

Gwen stopped at a few tables for refills, before returning to the kitchen and whipping up the hot chocolate. She used real cream and after scrounging around for a few minutes, managed to find some not-too-stale marshmallows.

She was happy to see the girl's eyes light up at the sight of the drink. Kids. No problem that couldn't be solved with a hot chocolate. Some things never changed.

"Where's your book sweetheart?"

Alice looked up. "I decided to draw instead."

"Oh can I see?"

There was a bit of hesitation and then the girl pushed the sketch pad she'd been playing with towards her.

Gwen flipped it open, expecting ponies or rainbows. She was surprised to see lots of figure drawings. Always people. She gave a low whistle at one of the portraits. "Wow who is that attractive man? Is that your dad?

Alice hesitated than nodded. "His name is Carlisle."

"He looks like he loves you very much.

Alice stared at the picture. "It's not very good," she said quietly.

* * *

Alice was just finishing her hot chocolate when the shadow fell across her. She glanced up with a ready smile, expecting to see that friendly waitress with the two pony-tails and big grin asking if she wanted seconds. Instead she saw a trucker's hat pulled low, windbreaker over some sweats and a pair of jeans. She waited for a nudge from her inside twin, but nothing came.

"You look like you could use a lift somewhere."

He smiled at her under his moustache.

Alice nodded, before adding. "Seattle."

"That's where I'm going. Might be able to help you out. If you're up for it."

"Okay."

He stood up. "Well com'on then. Don't have all day."

Alice hesitated. Looked around. There was something …

"I need to go the bathroom, first."

"Sure. I'm the large Shapely Foods truck, parked out to the left."

The bathrooms were located in a separate section of the building. Alice got directions and then slipped out.

* * *

With no word of dissent from Edward, Rosalie and Carlisle had been working their way towards Seattle, stopping at every truck stop – this was their fourth.

Carlisle checked his phone. "So far Edwards on the same path we are. You were right."

Rosalie shrugged off the praise. "Made sense."

Like the three times previously, they entered the diner. It was depressingly the same. Bright fluorescent lights, a mixture of booths and tables, the occupants looking half dead – listless sipping a cup of coffee. Every head in the place turned to stare at Rosalie as she walked in, and she stared right back, searching, looking.

No Alice.

Rosalie turned to go. "There's another one just 5 km up the road. Maybe she'll be there."

Carlisle was turning to follow her when he noticed a waitress staring at him, not Rosalie. She was 50 if she was a day. Normally he'd ignore it, but she was looking at him as if she recognized him.

In a second he was next to her.

"Sorry to startle you," he said smoothly, but I' m looking for a someone - I wonder if you've seen a girl here, by herself."

"Your daughter?"

Carlisle nodded. "She's short, dark hair, blue eyes. Looks about ten."

"Alice," the woman said warmly as Carlisle felt the sliver of hope he'd been nursing spark to life. "She was just here a second ago. Talking to that man. Wait – where'd he go?"

"What man?" Carlisle almost growled.

"I don't know who- he left, probably a truck driver."

Carlisle felt his heart sink. There were over 50 trucks parked out there. All the cabs dark and shuttered. They needed Edward.

* * *

Alice managed to find the bathrooms and was just finishing up, washing her hands and face, hoping to make herself feel something about the man she was about to get a ride from, but she couldn't. Nothing good or bad. The knot of anxiety in her stomach twisted, and the hot chocolate churned in protest. The stress of the night was catching up to her, wearing her down. She stared at herself in the mirror for a few moments, willing herself to relax, before with a final wiping of her hands on her jeans, she stepped outside.

The hand snaked out of nowhere, grabbing her by the arm, twisting her against the wall, as another hand, large, meaty, smelly, covered her mouth and nose, choking her.

"Scream and I'll break your neck." The hoarse voice whispered in her ear. She didn't get a chance to even nod before he hauled her away from the bathroom, her feet barely touching the ground. He was holding her close to him, so close that she could smell the tobacco, feel the grimy stiffness of his jean jacket. Help, her mind screamed, even though she knew deep down that there was no one to hear, she was alone. It was her fault - she had left them, afterall.

* * *

A shape crouched on the roof, hidden behind a sign, watching the vampire who had been tracking him lope into the truck stop. Jasper had known he was being followed since the last car transfer – the kid was fast but he was inexperienced. Jasper relaxed as Edward turned away from him, heading to another corner of the parking lot.

The incredible flash of fear that hit him knocked him back, stumbling, as he fought to recover. It was her. He knew it. His eyes scanned the parking lot, but there were just too many trucks – even with his elevation, it was impossible to get a view of the area. Terror, pain, hit him in rapid succession, overwhelming him for a split second. He dropped to his knees, even as he spotted someone, deep in the shadows, a hulking shape moving with the off balance lurch of a person dragging another.

He didn't hesitate, didn't think. Just reacted. In one fluid movement he leapt, panther-like, off the building. He landed on top of the man, sending all three of them sprawling across the pavement. Half a second later he snapped the man's neck, then turned to the girl. She was lying where she fell, staring up at him.

He felt her terror disappear as she looked at him. In its place was – Jasper stared at her. He didn't have a word for it, this feeling. He'd never felt it, never imagined it. It was light and it was air, and it was sun, and it was just for him, a perfect Buddhist chime ringing through the ages. She wasn't afraid of him, this tiny girl, this baby. This human that he could kill with barely more than a thought.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"You saved me," she answered, simply.

Jasper sensed Edward closing in on him. Sensed their rage, their fear. He was strong, but they were three – and they were never supposed to know about him. He couldn't be here. And yet. He turned back to her.

'You have to go," she told him, "but I'll wait for you."

He reluctantly turned away from her. Felt the other vampires, their unbearable concern pressing into him. He spared one last second –

"You know – they love you, right?"

Her face fell, and the emotion slipped – she doesn't, he read it clearly. Taking precious seconds, he reached out, he didn't need to touch her, probably shouldn't – but he couldn't help it. He gently touched her forehead with his finger (oh be careful be careful, her skull as delicate as Japanese rice paper to him) but he touched her and let the emotions he picked up from the other three vampires – their concern, their worry, their fear –– flow to her.

He felt the moment of incredibility, understanding, of joy - when she understood.

"They love you." He whispered, then was gone in a breath of air.

"Alice!" Carlisle voice was frantic, watching the other vampire, the stranger, bending over her, reaching for her. "ALICE".

Then the vampire was gone and Alice slumped back on the pavement, but he was there now, catching her head before it hit the pavement, eyes worriedly scanning her body for a bite.

"Are you hurt?"

But she just stared at him dazedly.

"Did he bite you? Did he hurt you?"

She didn't answer, just turned to look at the bloated body of the dead man who had held her, the unnatural twist of his neck. The hands that had grabbed her just a few seconds ago, now lying lax and empty.

"Dead." She whispered. "He's dead."

She jerked away from Carlisle, turning away as she suddenly puked.

She felt Carlisle's gentle hands holding her as she vomited. One arm wrapping around her shoulders, cool fingers resting on the back of her neck.

She was sick until there was nothing left to throw up, then she looked up at him, meeting his worried golden gaze. His fingers brushed away her tears. "You're safe now Alice. It's okay. We're here. You've got nothing to worry about. We came to find you, Edward, Rosalie and I, Esme and Emmett will be so happy to see you. We're not mad at you. It's over. It's over. Are you hurt? Or just scared? Please tell me sweetheart."

He was not prepared as she threw herself at him, could feel the desperate strength of the thin arms wrapped around his neck, felt the breath of warm air against his neck as she buried her head in his shoulder; her entire body trembling, an after affect of the adrenaline, as she started to sob.

"She's okay Carlisle," Edward reassured. "He didn't hurt her. He … he saved her from… that.." He wrinkled his nose at corpse.

Carlisle felt her slight nod at Edward's words.

* * *

Carefully downwind, out of reach of Edward's power, Jasper watched from the top of a truck. He could still feel her. Hurt for her.

He watched as the three of them surrounded her, Carlisle tenderly cradling her in his arms, lifting her easily as he stood up. Watched as Rosalie ran a smoothing hand through her hair, watched as Edward stood protectively by.

They turned away now, heading back to their car, back to their home, as a famly. Jasper relaxed only to tense again as Carlisle sudden stopped, looking back. Jasper knew he'd been spotted. He stood up, staring unblinkingly back. Then, in a movement so subtle that Jasper could almost believe he didn't see it, Carlisle nodded.

Thank you.

Jasper nodded back.

Since he started watching them, he thought them all lunatics. A coven of vampires gone insane, pretending to be human. It was unnatural.

He still believed that.

What he didn't understand was why, for the barest of moments, he would have traded everything to be down there with them, instead of up here, watching them walk away.

* * *

AN: There we go! Jasper! A bit early than planned, but so it goes. Hopefully that didn't disappoint. It was ridiculously tough to write.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: watching Glee (how awesome is Sue Sylvester?) Drinking a Malbec, and writing Twilight Fan fiction - Looks like Christmas came early this year!)

* * *

Carlisle hadn't let go of Alice since he had picked her up from the dirty, oil-slicked parking lot. He barely spared a thought for the body he had left behind. After all, they hadn't killed him. The vampire who had didn't even drain him, merely snapping his neck, as if he too wanted to minimize his contact with such a monster. Other than ensuring that they had left no evidence of themselves, he only wanted to focus on Alice.

Someone – Rosalie? Esme? Had the foresight to throw a blanket in the car, and he tightly wrapped Alice in it as one would a newborn, both for the psychological comfort it would give her, and to better cushion her from his cold marble skin. It was an old quilt, and he recognized it as one Esme had made when she was first turned – she had needed a hobby to fill up her nights. Alice's eyes were closed but he knew she wasn't sleeping, her breath and pulse still too rapid, her body still too jacked up on the adrenaline flooding her bloodstream. The two of them were in the back seats, Edward and Rosalie up front – oddly quiet – but he couldn't think of them now.

Carlisle dropped a light kiss onto Alice's forehead.

"Sweetheart, we need to talk." He wasn't sure he was doing the right thing, if he should wait. But where there was one vampire there could be others, and he had to make sure Alice understood the dangers they represented.

"Hmmmm?" she muttered.

"Alice- I know you're awake."

Her eyes flickered open at that, meeting his. They looked anxious and worried, and Carlisle didn't miss Edward's gaze in the rear view mirror.

"Not your fault, Alice." Edward's words had a quiet force to them that Carlisle rarely heard from his son. Alice must have thought something back, because Edward twisted in his seat until he could look her in the eye. "Of course we came for you. We will always come for you. Always. I swear to you. Alice – Alice look at me - you did nothing wrong. You are not those things he called you."

Carlisle watched as Edward's face crumpled in pain in reaction to her thoughts. Felt her trembling in his arms. Carlisle could guess what was running through her head. He tightened his grip on her, rocking her softly.

"You're okay," he told her again, trying to make his voice sound like the promise it was. "You're safe."

Alice tried a smile. "I know." She turned her head to bury it back into Carlisle's shoulder but he wouldn't let her.

"Alice- you have to understand what we are. That we would never hurt you, that we will protect you no matter what, but others of our kind will not. Others of our kind could hurt you. Will hurt you. "

Carlisle didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to give her nightmares, didn't want to put the idea in her head that if she got into an argument with one of them during the day that she might die that night– but she had to know. "We're vampires, Alice."

As Carlisle said the words both Rosalie and Edward flinched. He had broken one of the rules.

Alice's gaze was curious but not alarmed.

Edward shook his head. "Not like Spike and Angel, Alice. Not exactly. There is no Hellmouth that we know of – there is no Slayer. It's just us. Some of us are like Angel in that we don't kill humans, and even try to save them like Carlisle does, 'good guys' if you will. But some of us are like Spike was at the beginning. Just wanting to kill and feed on humans. Humans like you. You're part of our family, vampire or not and we love you and would never hurt you. But other vampires are part of other families – they live differently - and they will try to hurt you if they can."

Carlisle watched Alice's face closely as she listened to Edward. He wanted to make sure they got the main point across before she faded altogether.

"Alice – " he tried, "it's important if you ever see someone who looks like us, acts like us, that you immediately find one of us, and if you can't, go where there are lots of other people and call us. Do you understand?"

Alice nodded. "But that other vampire didn't try to hurt me. He saved me."

"We don't know what he was doing, what he wanted. But yes, we are indebted to him."

"Jasper." Alice said. "His name is Jasper. He'll never hurt me. Never."

The word was lost in a giant yawn, and Carlisle felt her tremors subside as her muscles finally relaxed.

"I'm tired," she murmured.

"Then you should go to sleep," he told her with a note of humour, one finger brushing across her forehead in a gesture that in another time and place could be a blessing. This time when her head tucked itself against his shoulder, he let it. He'd no doubt have to continue this conversation, if not completely repeat it later, when she was more aware, but it was a start, and he at least felt better for it.

He waited until he was sure she was completely under, sleeping the deep sleep of an exhausted child, before turning his attention to the other two, wondering how to approach the issues of their behaviour early that night.

"I don't want to talk about it." Rosalie declared. Carlisle's eyebrows rose. Edward was supposed to be the mind-reader. He must be more transparent than he thought.

Edward sounded relieved. "I don't want to talk about it either."

"Well tough –" Carlisle snapped, keeping his voice low. "Because we're not sitting through another family dinner like that again."

"Easy." Rosalie replied. "Stop with the family dinners. Which don't even make sense. We don't eat food – so … unless you want to have an evening blood-feast in front of Alice – well, I tried that and look how well that went over." She put an aggrieved note into the end of her sentence – as if she had been merely trying to polity accommodate different tastes when she had nearly bit that poor rabbit's head off in front of Alice and Esme's horrified eyes. That she was a victim of everyone else's misunderstandings and overreactions - not that she was paying homage to Ozzy Ozborne.

Edward glared at her but held his tongue.

Carlisle pinched his nose. Her tone aside, it was a hard point to argue. They didn't eat dinner. They hunted. But on the other hand there was Esme, and her concerns about Alice's socialization. The child was going to face enough problems adapting into the regular world as it was – she had to learn how to be a human – or else she'd never be able to go to school, get a job, have friends outside the family. It wasn't an easy problem.

"I take it back - I don't want to talk about it." Carlisle decided, rubbing his forehead. Alice stirred at his movement, and Carlisle soothed her, quietly.

If he saw the relieved look Rosalie and Edward exchanged, he let it go. Still there was one more thing. Edward tilted his head as Carlisle shared his thought, then nodded.

"Rosalie," Edward began awkwardly, "what I said earlier – about – "

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But it was –"

"I know." Rosalie emphasized, hazarding a look away from the road to glance at Edward. "I know. It's okay. And I don't want to talk about it."

_Let it go Edward, it's okay._ Carlisle thought, and Edward subsided with a sigh. _And Thank you._

Carlisle couldn't read thoughts, but he didn't miss how Edward's gaze suddenly focused on Rosalie, or how a few seconds later, he laid a gentle hand on Rosalie's shoulder. Instead of threatening to break his fingers the way she usually did, she gave a small smile back.

Somehow, they had worked it out between the two of them, and that was all he needed to know.

Rosalie drove them back at a sedate 60 mph, and it took over 90 minutes before they were pulling into their driveway. Another hour and it would be dawn, Carlisle thought looking towards the east. The Audi had barely come to a halt before the front door of the house was thrown opened, light from the foyer spilling out around Emmett and Esme's shadows.

"Do you have her, is she okay?" Esme voice rang out, high and anxious. They had called home earlier, but clearly Esme wouldn't be satisfied until she seen Alice for herself.

"We have her, she's fine." Edward answered for them all as Carlisle unfolded himself from the tiny back seats as carefully as possible as to not disturb Alice. He needn't have worried. Alice didn't stir as Esme and Emmett fused over her, nor as he carried her into the house and up the stairs, it wasn't until he had tossed back the comforter on her bed, unwrapping the quilt as he put her down, that she murmured something. Esme was there in an instant, leaning over the other side of the bed.

"Yes sweetheart? Do you want something?"

Alice's eyes fluttered open, meeting Esme's concerned golden-eyed gaze for an instant before she mumbled something else, then with a sigh slipped back to sleep.

Esme turned to Carlisle, who seemed to suddenly be under attack from a nasty cough as he finished tucking her in.

"What did she say?"

Carlisle pulled himself together. "She said, uh – Thank – you very much dinner."

Esme pulled her brow together in a little frown of concentration, Carlisle was about to comfort her, but then Esme unexpectedly beamed at him.

"Good manners," she said approvingly. "Always important."

Before Carlisle had a chance to react, Esme bent over Alice, a finger gently brushing an errant lock of hair off her forehead - unknowingly duplicating Carlisle's gesture from earlier.

"My pleasure," Esme whispered into Alice's impossibly delicate sea-shell ear. "And welcome back."

At that moment Carlisle realized exactly how far Alice had managed to wrap them all around her little finger.

* * *

Jasper ran through the night, rushing away from his thoughts, from those unnatural vampires, away from feelings that … that human had put into him. It was a trick, it meant nothing, he told himself. He just needed distance.

He couldn't think about her.

He needed to get back to the South, report to his coven. He needed to be back to normal – back to the Jasper he was before he came up North. If he wasn't, if he was in any way flawed in his performance, Maria would know. Maria who knew him so well – inside and out – that she could look into his eyes and then wait as he offered his secrets to her. It was just supposed to be a routine reconnaissance mission – just observe. He had found out a lot that Maria would be happy with – he had intelligence on Edward's powers. But he had also stumbled. Now there was this mess. Maria would not be happy - he had been discovered – discovered as if he was some sloppy inexperienced newborn.

He ran harder, occasionally stopping to feed. He murdered viciously, he murdered innocents – he murdered to feel their panic and terror burning through him. To feed the beast he needed to be, and to destroy whatever that nameless thing was that she had awoken.

Most of all he was running away from the thought that after 150 years, his world had been irrevocably changed in between the heartbeats of a little girl, and the growing fear that no matter how fast or far he travelled – he had changed with it.

* * *

AN: Thanks for all the reviewers and alert-people! Don't know when my next update maybe – may take a while. I'm moving continents over the Christmas holidays– and the fun starts Saturday. I'm a skier so chasing the snow from the southern hemisphere to the northern one!


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